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 Dominican Republic and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Barry Ungar to the crunk 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Public Enemy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nick Fraelich,
Eve St. Jones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Junior Murvin,
Chrome,
Max Romeo,
Mr. Review,
Lakeside,
Y Pants,
Ultimate Spinach,
Arthur Verocai,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Barry Ungar,
Kerri Chandler,
OOIOO,
Pet Shop Boys,
Aural Exciters,
Loose Ends,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eli Mardock,
Gang of Four,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hardrive,
The Move,
Warsaw,
The Music Machine,
New York Dolls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tommy Roe,
Black Pus,
The Pop Group,
Newcleus,
The Red Krayola,
Make Up,
Archie Shepp,
The Sonics,
Eden Ahbez,
The Knickerbockers,
R.M.O.,
Pussy Galore,
Cameo,
Erasure,
Clear Light,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harry Pussy,
The Dirtbombs,
Animal Collective,
Althea and Donna,
Moss Icon,
Surgeon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sparks,
Man Parrish,
Severed Heads,
DJ Sneak,
Bush Tetras,
Sugar Minott,
The Slackers,
Panda Bear,
New Order,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.