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 Kiribati and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Amazonics to the dance 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans 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?
Terrestrial Tones,
Joe Smooth,
The Modern Lovers,
ABBA,
Fugazi,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Normal,
Terry Callier,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Television,
Boz Scaggs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hot Snakes,
Mr. Review,
Ossler,
The Leaves,
Gang Green,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Neu!,
Tommy Roe,
U.S. Maple,
FM Einheit,
Interpol,
Qualms,
Ronnie Foster,
Khruangbin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deadbeat,
JFA,
Bootsy Collins,
Make Up,
The Electric Prunes,
Ituana,
Lalo Schifrin,
Public Enemy,
Masters at Work,
The Birthday Party,
A Certain Ratio,
CMW,
The Five Americans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lower 48,
Brothers Johnson,
Ken Boothe,
Pussy Galore,
Mo-Dettes,
Motorama,
Whodini,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Index,
The Evens,
Von Mondo,
Faraquet,
Blake Baxter,
Fat Boys,
Darondo,
Johnny Clarke,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wings,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Barracudas,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.