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 Turkmenistan and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 The Seeds to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Juan Atkins,
Parry Music,
The Last Poets,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Simply Red,
Moby Grape,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cymande,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Seeds,
Max Romeo,
Heaven 17,
Ossler,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Busters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ituana,
John Lydon,
Absolute Body Control,
Ohio Players,
Blancmange,
Susan Cadogan,
Blake Baxter,
Johnny Clarke,
The Tremeloes,
Mo-Dettes,
Dark Day,
LL Cool J,
Boredoms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Cale,
The Happenings,
Pharoah Sanders,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Clear Light,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gories,
Wings,
Sparks,
Hasil Adkins,
DJ Sneak,
Harry Pussy,
Davy DMX,
Wally Richardson,
Swell Maps,
Procol Harum,
Ornette Coleman,
Newcleus,
Los Fastidios,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Byrd,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deepchord,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.