Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Costa Rica and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Severed Heads to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Iggy Pop,
Peter and Kerry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Pop Group,
Swell Maps,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Motions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sexual Harrassment,
Essential Logic,
The Gladiators,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
Cal Tjader,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ponytail,
Black Bananas,
Man Parrish,
ABBA,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Whodini,
OOIOO,
Brass Construction,
Inner City,
Sun City Girls,
Mandrill,
Radiohead,
Cybotron,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eve St. Jones,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barry Ungar,
Letta Mbulu,
The Remains,
Symarip,
KRS-One,
Visage,
Altered Images,
Donny Hathaway,
Aswad,
Tomorrow,
Shuggie Otis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ten City,
the Bar-Kays,
Marine Girls,
Nirvana,
The Seeds,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bronski Beat,
The Walker Brothers,
Bobby Womack,
Colin Newman,
Unwound,
Lungfish,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Durutti Column,
The Gun Club,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.