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 Costa Rica and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes 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 Newcleus to the jazz 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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Sällskapet,
Rapeman,
Hardrive,
Oneida,
Sexual Harrassment,
Main Source,
Motorama,
The Black Dice,
Moss Icon,
The United States of America,
Scion,
Wings,
Hot Snakes,
The Cowsills,
Amazonics,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Isaac Hayes,
Ronnie Foster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Oblivians,
Pet Shop Boys,
Anthony Braxton,
Suicide,
The Index,
Prince Buster,
Mission of Burma,
Tomorrow,
Traffic Nightmare,
David McCallum,
Max Romeo,
F. McDonald,
The Doors,
Fluxion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Malaria!,
Yazoo,
The Seeds,
The Remains,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scientists,
Groovy Waters,
Adolescents,
Alison Limerick,
Eden Ahbez,
Wire,
The Techniques,
Ohio Players,
the Human League,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joyce Sims,
Make Up,
the Soft Cell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Modern Lovers,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.