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 Marshall Islands and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Ituana to the techno 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
H. Thieme,
Sexual Harrassment,
Newcleus,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ten City,
Masters at Work,
Arthur Verocai,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Roxy Music,
Barbara Tucker,
Icehouse,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Glenn Branca,
The Residents,
The Beau Brummels,
Half Japanese,
Accadde A,
The Smoke,
Dark Day,
Fela Kuti,
Eli Mardock,
Jacob Miller,
Pussy Galore,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grauzone,
Juan Atkins,
Laurel Aitken,
Scientists,
Magma,
The Martian,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Babytalk,
Kayak,
Main Source,
The Golliwogs,
Dennis Brown,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mantronix,
The Happenings,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Faust,
Vainqueur,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
X-102,
Frankie Knuckles,
Leonard Cohen,
Radiohead,
Fugazi,
The Fugs,
The Grass Roots,
Maurizio,
Y Pants,
Bill Near,
David McCallum,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.