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 Mauritius and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Detroit Cobras to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 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 DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
The Knickerbockers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sexual Harrassment,
Theoretical Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Busters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Grass Roots,
Talk Talk,
The Toasters,
Wings,
Hot Snakes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bauhaus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Association,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
Porter Ricks,
Eurythmics,
Colin Newman,
The Associates,
Ten City,
Pierre Henry,
Steve Hackett,
The Slits,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Surgeon,
The Pretty Things,
Banda Bassotti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
Grey Daturas,
Albert Ayler,
David Bowie,
The New Christs,
Sun Ra,
The Red Krayola,
Newcleus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dennis Brown,
U.S. Maple,
Tropical Tobacco,
Reuben Wilson,
Pussy Galore,
The Young Rascals,
Boredoms,
Nils Olav,
Mad Mike,
Jerry's Kids,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Spandau Ballet,
Brass Construction,
Howard Jones,
Black Bananas,
Tommy Roe,
Prince Buster,
The Buckinghams,
Joyce Sims,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.