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 Belarus and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gerry Rafferty to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra,
Swans,
Ludus,
Sparks,
KRS-One,
Monolake,
the Germs,
Delta 5,
Man Parrish,
Prince Buster,
Lindisfarne,
Brick,
The Sound,
Jerry's Kids,
cv313,
Dorothy Ashby,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lightning Bolt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Al Stewart,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
The Trojans,
Swell Maps,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Searchers,
Buzzcocks,
The Selecter,
Mo-Dettes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pantytec,
Pierre Henry,
Neil Young,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pere Ubu,
The Cure,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Boz Scaggs,
Interpol,
Infiniti,
Rakim,
Visage,
The Residents,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crime,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
CMW,
Von Mondo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Remains,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Franke,
OOIOO,
Carl Craig,
The Tremeloes,
Flash Fearless,
a-ha,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Pus,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.