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 Lebanon and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 D'Angelo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Negative Approach,
Popol Vuh,
Cecil Taylor,
X-101,
Young Marble Giants,
Supertramp,
Royal Trux,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Pus,
Camouflage,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Angry Samoans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Index,
Freddie Wadling,
CMW,
Y Pants,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arab on Radar,
The Index,
Glambeats Corp.,
Circle Jerks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
B.T. Express,
Piero Umiliani,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lindisfarne,
Crime,
Carl Craig,
The Star Department,
Bluetip,
Barbara Tucker,
This Heat,
A Certain Ratio,
Hot Snakes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Cale,
Davy DMX,
Gong,
The Gap Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jerry's Kids,
The United States of America,
Tears for Fears,
Model 500,
These Immortal Souls,
Jawbox,
The Count Five,
Slave,
The Fall,
Cybotron,
Echospace,
Jeff Mills,
The Tremeloes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boredoms,
Vladislav Delay,
The Victims,
Sound Behaviour,
Section 25,
The Red Krayola,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.