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 Thailand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Con Funk Shun to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Quando Quango,
cv313,
Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Spandau Ballet,
Cecil Taylor,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Skatalites,
The Fuzztones,
John Foxx,
Pole,
Rhythm & Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Au Pairs,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
The Black Dice,
Motorama,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
Heaven 17,
Urselle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ken Boothe,
Rotary Connection,
Lower 48,
The Golliwogs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Section 25,
Schoolly D,
Ronan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joe Finger,
The Slackers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Adolescents,
the Normal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scrapy,
Bobby Womack,
Eve St. Jones,
Infiniti,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dead C,
Flash Fearless,
Big Daddy Kane,
Erykah Badu,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Searchers,
FM Einheit,
Aswad,
T.S.O.L.,
The Victims,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Wire,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
David Axelrod,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.