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 Thailand and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the dance 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sällskapet,
Marmalade,
Gabor Szabo,
UT,
Stereo Dub,
Echospace,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Henry Cow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Urselle,
Gil Scott Heron,
Motorama,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Vladislav Delay,
Kaleidoscope,
Boogie Down Productions,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Drexciya,
Fat Boys,
Minutemen,
The Pop Group,
The American Breed,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monochrome Set,
Brass Construction,
Icehouse,
Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marcia Griffiths,
Whodini,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Slave,
Porter Ricks,
Boredoms,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Normal,
Main Source,
The Knickerbockers,
the Slits,
Cecil Taylor,
Vainqueur,
Pylon,
H. Thieme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crispy Ambulance,
Spandau Ballet,
The Zeros,
Suicide,
Adolescents,
The Music Machine,
Pole,
Average White Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.