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 Namibia and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Siglo XX to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Beau Brummels,
Eve St. Jones,
Terry Callier,
Joe Smooth,
In Retrospect,
Easy Going,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ludus,
Ice-T,
Todd Terry,
cv313,
Fad Gadget,
Joey Negro,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Parrish,
John Coltrane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Arcadia,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lalo Schifrin,
Q65,
Au Pairs,
Howard Jones,
Suicide,
H. Thieme,
Marc Almond,
The Martian,
Mars,
The Litter,
Hasil Adkins,
Barbara Tucker,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-Ray Spex,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grey Daturas,
Tears for Fears,
Arab on Radar,
Accadde A,
Blake Baxter,
Al Stewart,
Neu!,
The Black Dice,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marmalade,
Unrelated Segments,
Sandy B,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sight & Sound,
Quando Quango,
Robert Wyatt,
Jawbox,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
B.T. Express,
Brick,
Maurizio,
Cecil Taylor,
Janne Schatter,
Scientists,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.