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 Korea North and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator 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 Lucky Dragons to the techno 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Graham Central Station,
Lungfish,
The Happenings,
The J.B.'s,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Metal Thangz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Davy DMX,
Lalann,
Sällskapet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Duran Duran,
Moby Grape,
Jeff Mills,
The Golliwogs,
48th St. Collective,
Urselle,
Eli Mardock,
Cameo,
Rosa Yemen,
Pole,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Iggy Pop,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
Yusef Lateef,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Age Steppers,
Joey Negro,
Stiv Bators,
Gang Starr,
Sun Ra,
Goldenarms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marmalade,
E-Dancer,
Massinfluence,
The Evens,
Pere Ubu,
Cheater Slicks,
Brick,
Marshall Jefferson,
Inner City,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
Archie Shepp,
Junior Murvin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Masters at Work,
Faust,
The Fortunes,
D'Angelo,
Maleditus Sound,
Simply Red,
Eric Dolphy,
Max Romeo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.