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 Argentina and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dirtbombs to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Wasted Youth,
Tres Demented,
Infiniti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Youth Brigade,
Agitation Free,
Yusef Lateef,
Nils Olav,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Aloha Tigers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scratch Acid,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Skatalites,
Severed Heads,
Fatback Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blancmange,
Monks,
Skaos,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Smoke,
Basic Channel,
The Offenders,
Marmalade,
Brick,
Underground Resistance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Desert Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Radiohead,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
June Days,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Technova,
B.T. Express,
Chris Corsano,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
Eddi Front,
Inner City,
KRS-One,
Black Moon,
Circle Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
Fela Kuti,
Sexual Harrassment,
Supertramp,
Pulsallama,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Archie Shepp,
Masters at Work,
Dead Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Lower 48,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.