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 Belize and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 Little Man to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Roxette,
Crooked Eye,
Pierre Henry,
Kayak,
Max Romeo,
Danielle Patucci,
John Foxx,
Nas,
Masters at Work,
Susan Cadogan,
Rites of Spring,
Aloha Tigers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joensuu 1685,
Roxy Music,
Crime,
Magma,
June Days,
Zapp,
The Fire Engines,
Gichy Dan,
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Supertramp,
Banda Bassotti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Black Flag,
Siglo XX,
Lou Christie,
Mark Hollis,
Roy Ayers,
Symarip,
Slave,
Jandek,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lyres,
Second Layer,
Dawn Penn,
Slick Rick,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rekid,
David Axelrod,
The Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Flash Fearless,
Jerry's Kids,
Spoonie Gee,
Loose Ends,
The Alarm Clocks,
Piero Umiliani,
The Monochrome Set,
Lee Hazlewood,
Glenn Branca,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deakin,
Easy Going,
The Knickerbockers,
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.