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 Afghanistan and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Au Pairs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Zeros,
Bootsy Collins,
Cymande,
The Fuzztones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nas,
The Associates,
Reuben Wilson,
Eli Mardock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Neon Judgement,
Sixth Finger,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gang Starr,
Arthur Verocai,
Siglo XX,
Hardrive,
U.S. Maple,
Funkadelic,
Spoonie Gee,
Maurizio,
Animal Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mr. Review,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
The Gories,
Gong,
Stiv Bators,
The Gap Band,
L. Decosne,
Talk Talk,
Negative Approach,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Techniques,
Suburban Knight,
Davy DMX,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Quando Quango,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fortunes,
Television Personalities,
Gang Green,
The Invisible,
the Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Metal Thangz,
Rakim,
the Swans,
the Soft Cell,
Dave Gahan,
Brothers Johnson,
Joe Smooth,
Pole,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Excepter,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.