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 Egypt and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 The Blues Magoos to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Jeff Mills,
Can,
UT,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monolake,
Aloha Tigers,
Steve Hackett,
Peter and Kerry,
The Move,
David Bowie,
Rhythm & Sound,
Procol Harum,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABBA,
Tommy Roe,
the Germs,
Fear,
Basic Channel,
Spandau Ballet,
Throbbing Gristle,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Duran Duran,
PIL,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Electric Prunes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Parrish,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
Heaven 17,
Accadde A,
Skriet,
The Dead C,
Sarah Menescal,
Adolescents,
Swell Maps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Groovy Waters,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cure,
Nirvana,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobby Sherman,
K-Klass,
The Victims,
Amon Düül II,
Y Pants,
The Last Poets,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
Iggy Pop,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vladislav Delay,
Quando Quango,
The Residents,
Unrelated Segments,
The Divine Comedy,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.