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 Poland and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pet Shop Boys to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Little Man,
Brand Nubian,
Eddi Front,
Ohio Players,
Yusef Lateef,
Jacques Brel,
Barry Ungar,
Subhumans,
Funky Four + One,
The Offenders,
The Evens,
FM Einheit,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
Anakelly,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mo-Dettes,
Mandrill,
D'Angelo,
Niagra,
Goldenarms,
Arab on Radar,
The Cramps,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Moss Icon,
The Fortunes,
Sam Rivers,
Boredoms,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Flag,
Main Source,
The Gladiators,
The Techniques,
Lower 48,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mummies,
Clear Light,
The Music Machine,
Morten Harket,
The Fuzztones,
Ronan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Holt,
Wire,
Minnie Riperton,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joe Smooth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
New Age Steppers,
Wings,
Second Layer,
Das Ding,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Dead C,
Section 25,
The Searchers,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.