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 Grenada and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 F. McDonald to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Scott Walker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
Aural Exciters,
The Fugs,
Hot Snakes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Raincoats,
New York Dolls,
Whodini,
R.M.O.,
Electric Prunes,
The Fire Engines,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mission of Burma,
Yellowson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Minutemen,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marvin Gaye,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harry Pussy,
Q65,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dead Boys,
Zapp,
Das Ding,
Stiv Bators,
Cal Tjader,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Cell,
Janne Schatter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fall,
Parry Music,
Yazoo,
The Fuzztones,
X-101,
The Techniques,
Skaos,
Mr. Review,
Lou Reed,
Robert Görl,
Sun City Girls,
Mark Hollis,
Procol Harum,
the Association,
Agitation Free,
Shoche,
Kurtis Blow,
X-102,
Junior Murvin,
Robert Hood,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Christie,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soft Machine,
Matthew Bourne,
E-Dancer,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.