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 Senegal and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the rap 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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres 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?
Slick Rick,
The Stooges,
Absolute Body Control,
Scrapy,
Ohio Players,
Mad Mike,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kurtis Blow,
Eli Mardock,
Massinfluence,
Bootsy Collins,
Agent Orange,
Mars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blancmange,
Subhumans,
The Real Kids,
Angry Samoans,
Excepter,
The Misunderstood,
ABC,
Sex Pistols,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lower 48,
X-101,
Procol Harum,
Barry Ungar,
Peter and Kerry,
Cybotron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hardrive,
The Buckinghams,
Liliput,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cure,
Glenn Branca,
Gastr Del Sol,
Reagan Youth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minor Threat,
Y Pants,
Young Marble Giants,
Piero Umiliani,
Adolescents,
The Electric Prunes,
Kaleidoscope,
Kenny Larkin,
The American Breed,
Bauhaus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Theoretical Girls,
Josef K,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lou Reed,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gories,
Metal Thangz,
Second Layer,
The Mojo Men,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.