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 Denmark 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
The Trojans,
Johnny Clarke,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mars,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Velvet Underground,
Brick,
Accadde A,
Bootsy Collins,
The Walker Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Schoolly D,
the Germs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kaleidoscope,
Ten City,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ohio Players,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suburban Knight,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nik Kershaw,
Can,
Model 500,
Crime,
The Slackers,
The Wake,
Alison Limerick,
T. Rex,
Half Japanese,
Niagra,
Eve St. Jones,
Skarface,
The Slits,
The Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Girls At Our Best!,
Robert Görl,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
China Crisis,
Wasted Youth,
Roxy Music,
Electric Prunes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Patti Smith,
48th St. Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Camberwell Now,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
James Chance & The Contortions,
X-Ray Spex,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Foxx,
Stetsasonic,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.