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 Malawi and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Intrusion to the rap 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kevin Saunderson,
Erykah Badu,
Amon Düül II,
The Beau Brummels,
Half Japanese,
the Fania All-Stars,
Josef K,
Iggy Pop,
Dave Gahan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brothers Johnson,
Scan 7,
Traffic Nightmare,
Funky Four + One,
Terry Callier,
China Crisis,
Rekid,
Wally Richardson,
Qualms,
Severed Heads,
Wire,
Liliput,
Malaria!,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Smog,
Excepter,
Roxy Music,
Robert Wyatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Chris Corsano,
Nas,
Ronnie Foster,
X-101,
Gregory Isaacs,
Zero Boys,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Yaz,
Fat Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lee Hazlewood,
Minnie Riperton,
The Music Machine,
Sight & Sound,
Moebius,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Con Funk Shun,
Agent Orange,
Moby Grape,
The Victims,
Alison Limerick,
Nick Fraelich,
Althea and Donna,
Marine Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Barrington Levy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.