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 Tajikistan and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blake Baxter,
Freddie Wadling,
Deakin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skriet,
Quando Quango,
Scratch Acid,
Tears for Fears,
Heaven 17,
Connie Case,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lakeside,
The Leaves,
Ponytail,
Flamin' Groovies,
Urselle,
Morten Harket,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Christie,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minny Pops,
Gang Starr,
Hardrive,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Residents,
Lindisfarne,
Sixth Finger,
The Slackers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Wire,
The Index,
The American Breed,
The Associates,
Hasil Adkins,
Los Fastidios,
Spandau Ballet,
Gregory Isaacs,
Patti Smith,
X-Ray Spex,
The Raincoats,
A Certain Ratio,
Goldenarms,
The Mummies,
Fluxion,
Crime,
The Flesh Eaters,
Royal Trux,
the Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
Anthony Braxton,
Pagans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deadbeat,
R.M.O.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mission of Burma,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.