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 Burkina and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Duran Duran to the grunge 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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
the Bar-Kays,
Liliput,
Spoonie Gee,
The Moody Blues,
Negative Approach,
AZ,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eve St. Jones,
Joe Finger,
Animal Collective,
Audionom,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Coltrane,
Lindisfarne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Metal Thangz,
Thee Headcoats,
Half Japanese,
R.M.O.,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Symarip,
Alton Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fugazi,
Duran Duran,
The Walker Brothers,
Fear,
Pylon,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Robert Wyatt,
Ice-T,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terry Callier,
Colin Newman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Count Five,
Deadbeat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pussy Galore,
Au Pairs,
Juan Atkins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Buzzcocks,
The Busters,
The Vogues,
Rotary Connection,
Lightning Bolt,
Fat Boys,
Nick Fraelich,
Wally Richardson,
June Days,
Sandy B,
Aloha Tigers,
Ituana,
Gastr Del Sol,
Young Marble Giants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Electric Prunes,
Agent Orange,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.