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 Yemen and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord 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 Byron Stingily to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Buzzcocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Womack,
the Fania All-Stars,
CMW,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Bananas,
The Wake,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Carl Craig,
Delon & Dalcan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Slave,
Yazoo,
Urselle,
Gong,
Boz Scaggs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minutemen,
Cal Tjader,
Procol Harum,
Theoretical Girls,
The Trojans,
Brass Construction,
Rod Modell,
Ornette Coleman,
Bluetip,
Toni Rubio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fuzztones,
Faust,
One Last Wish,
Black Pus,
Suburban Knight,
the Slits,
Rites of Spring,
Stereo Dub,
Tommy Roe,
Sonic Youth,
James White and The Blacks,
Tears for Fears,
Sun City Girls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Stooges,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cecil Taylor,
Flash Fearless,
Jandek,
Y Pants,
Eric Copeland,
The Electric Prunes,
Sun Ra,
Steve Hackett,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.