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 Kiribati and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin 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 Marc Almond to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
Section 25,
Television,
Main Source,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ornette Coleman,
Tres Demented,
Funky Four + One,
Janne Schatter,
The New Christs,
T. Rex,
Scott Walker,
Rhythm & Sound,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
The Last Poets,
DJ Style,
Newcleus,
Rod Modell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Metal Thangz,
Howard Jones,
The Remains,
The United States of America,
Soft Machine,
Basic Channel,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Franke,
Camberwell Now,
Maurizio,
Rapeman,
Loose Ends,
Pere Ubu,
Lungfish,
Bob Dylan,
Altered Images,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Skriet,
The Slackers,
EPMD,
The Vogues,
F. McDonald,
Eric Copeland,
the Swans,
Little Man,
Freddie Wadling,
Sällskapet,
Monks,
Eden Ahbez,
Symarip,
Negative Approach,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ronan,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
Gabor Szabo,
Schoolly D,
Von Mondo,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.