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 Laos 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Juan Atkins to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Cramps,
Swans,
John Cale,
Siglo XX,
Sandy B,
Soft Cell,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Raincoats,
The Five Americans,
Peter & Gordon,
Eric Copeland,
Ornette Coleman,
Godley & Creme,
Tears for Fears,
K-Klass,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lebanon Hanover,
Thee Headcoats,
Accadde A,
Amon Düül II,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dead C,
Derrick May,
Erykah Badu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Japan,
Soulsonic Force,
Sällskapet,
Tommy Roe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tim Buckley,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Starr,
Spandau Ballet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Durutti Column,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Moss Icon,
Jerry's Kids,
The Mummies,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Robert Görl,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yazoo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Radiohead,
Livin' Joy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Shuggie Otis,
Little Man,
Matthew Bourne,
Scientists,
Lower 48,
Bobby Sherman,
Frankie Knuckles,
Country Teasers,
Echospace,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lungfish,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.