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 Cuba and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Curtis Mayfield to the punk 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Popol Vuh,
Shoche,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pantaleimon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Shuggie Otis,
The Toasters,
Charles Mingus,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobby Byrd,
The Blues Magoos,
Leonard Cohen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vainqueur,
The Cowsills,
Camberwell Now,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pulsallama,
Mark Hollis,
Boredoms,
Stetsasonic,
Wally Richardson,
The Star Department,
Black Pus,
the Germs,
The Fuzztones,
48th St. Collective,
Alton Ellis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grauzone,
The Cure,
Deadbeat,
The Velvet Underground,
Chrome,
DJ Sneak,
Soulsonic Force,
Donny Hathaway,
Lalo Schifrin,
Los Fastidios,
Severed Heads,
The Angels of Light,
Q65,
The American Breed,
Minutemen,
Rotary Connection,
Arcadia,
Agitation Free,
Connie Case,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Wasted Youth,
Ornette Coleman,
Icehouse,
Wire,
Godley & Creme,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.