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 Beijing.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Normal to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
Supertramp,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
One Last Wish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fugazi,
Tommy Roe,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blossom Toes,
Faust,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jawbox,
The Barracudas,
The Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
Deakin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jerry's Kids,
Organ,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rapeman,
Siglo XX,
Cymande,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gun Club,
DJ Sneak,
Steve Hackett,
The Mojo Men,
Main Source,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare,
Angry Samoans,
Kayak,
Bob Dylan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Alphaville,
The Trojans,
Pet Shop Boys,
John Holt,
Donny Hathaway,
the Human League,
Sandy B,
Aswad,
Alton Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
The Smiths,
Scratch Acid,
PIL,
Von Mondo,
Jacob Miller,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Youth Brigade,
Erykah Badu,
Depeche Mode,
Ultravox,
The Dead C,
The Human League,
Man Parrish,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.