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 Bulgaria and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Edmonton.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Minnie Riperton to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Magazine,
Television Personalities,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Last Poets,
Jerry's Kids,
The Zeros,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Maleditus Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brothers Johnson,
Nik Kershaw,
Mo-Dettes,
The Pretty Things,
DJ Style,
Procol Harum,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
June of 44,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Green,
Derrick May,
Darondo,
Barbara Tucker,
the Sonics,
Flash Fearless,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terry Callier,
Silicon Teens,
Rosa Yemen,
The Gories,
Sparks,
The Trojans,
Q and Not U,
Angry Samoans,
Country Teasers,
Tubeway Army,
The Move,
These Immortal Souls,
Sam Rivers,
Marc Almond,
Althea and Donna,
Ten City,
48th St. Collective,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Anakelly,
Neu!,
Fat Boys,
Massinfluence,
Oneida,
T. Rex,
Intrusion,
The Divine Comedy,
Main Source,
Ken Boothe,
The Litter,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.