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 Netherlands and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Vogues to the crunk 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
H. Thieme,
Johnny Clarke,
Marvin Gaye,
Make Up,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Byrd,
Monolake,
Spoonie Gee,
Bizarre Inc.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dead Boys,
David Bowie,
Hasil Adkins,
The Dead C,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
James White and The Blacks,
June of 44,
Neil Young,
Camouflage,
Black Pus,
Sixth Finger,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Silicon Teens,
The Invisible,
The Gories,
Marine Girls,
The New Christs,
Porter Ricks,
X-101,
Brick,
The Neon Judgement,
Danielle Patucci,
Spandau Ballet,
One Last Wish,
The Raincoats,
John Cale,
OOIOO,
Sällskapet,
Albert Ayler,
Chris & Cosey,
Wings,
Peter and Kerry,
Mr. Review,
Infiniti,
Loose Ends,
Skarface,
Crooked Eye,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Absolute Body Control,
Chrome,
The Fuzztones,
Organ,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Foxx,
Stereo Dub,
Arcadia,
The Young Rascals,
Schoolly D,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.