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 Hungary and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Columbus.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Mandrill,
Brothers Johnson,
Thompson Twins,
The Buckinghams,
Jacob Miller,
Liliput,
Amon Düül,
Parry Music,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Tommy Roe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
T. Rex,
Rakim,
June Days,
Flash Fearless,
Whodini,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Golliwogs,
Groovy Waters,
Saccharine Trust,
Average White Band,
Faust,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chris Corsano,
Spoonie Gee,
Babytalk,
Supertramp,
Public Enemy,
X-101,
The Real Kids,
Quantec,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Qualms,
The Barracudas,
Erykah Badu,
Shoche,
The Offenders,
Depeche Mode,
June of 44,
Soft Machine,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mission of Burma,
Rapeman,
Robert Hood,
Iggy Pop,
Brand Nubian,
Joey Negro,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronnie Foster,
Roy Ayers,
Soulsonic Force,
The United States of America,
Nico,
U.S. Maple,
10cc,
Joensuu 1685,
Bootsy Collins,
Pierre Henry,
Sex Pistols,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.