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 Canada and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bauhaus to the techno 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants 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?
ABBA,
Faust,
Harmonia,
The Martian,
Fugazi,
The Gladiators,
Kevin Saunderson,
E-Dancer,
The Names,
Roy Ayers,
Judy Mowatt,
Deepchord,
Half Japanese,
Kurtis Blow,
Unwound,
Sixth Finger,
Television Personalities,
The Count Five,
Desert Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sex Pistols,
Groovy Waters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Index,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Flag,
Echospace,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sonics,
Masters at Work,
The Buckinghams,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Television,
F. McDonald,
Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Guru Guru,
Jeff Mills,
Ponytail,
The Toasters,
Young Marble Giants,
Crispian St. Peters,
Todd Terry,
Minor Threat,
Gang Green,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Byrd,
Tommy Roe,
Slave,
Ossler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gong,
Ronan,
June of 44,
The Fall,
Neil Young,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.