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 Norway and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Man Eating Sloth to the jazz 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Franke,
Japan,
the Germs,
Scan 7,
Arcadia,
Funkadelic,
Bluetip,
The Young Rascals,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Hill,
Faraquet,
Gang of Four,
Aural Exciters,
the Soft Cell,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Hood,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lungfish,
Aloha Tigers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kenny Larkin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cybotron,
Ohio Players,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Icehouse,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
Minutemen,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
This Heat,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Youth Brigade,
Sam Rivers,
Lalann,
Sex Pistols,
Freddie Wadling,
Bizarre Inc.,
Peter and Kerry,
Nas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Green,
Popol Vuh,
The Vogues,
Juan Atkins,
Gang Starr,
Desert Stars,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jeff Lynne,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Skatalites,
Marcia Griffiths,
Grauzone,
Jesper Dahlback,
Boredoms,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.