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 Switzerland and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Cymande,
The Monks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mark Hollis,
Swans,
Max Romeo,
The Smoke,
Dave Gahan,
Laurel Aitken,
Nas,
Motorama,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dual Sessions,
Erasure,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cramps,
Scratch Acid,
Joe Finger,
Tubeway Army,
The Walker Brothers,
Kayak,
Crime,
Janne Schatter,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barry Ungar,
Fat Boys,
Ten City,
Agent Orange,
Todd Terry,
F. McDonald,
The Real Kids,
Marc Almond,
The Beau Brummels,
Dorothy Ashby,
Audionom,
The Saints,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Enemy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun Ra,
Andrew Hill,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Fuzztones,
David Bowie,
the Fania All-Stars,
Qualms,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Toasters,
The Moleskins,
Theoretical Girls,
Wasted Youth,
Barrington Levy,
Todd Rundgren,
Silicon Teens,
Second Layer,
The Young Rascals,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Can,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.