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 Sweden and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Knickerbockers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sonics,
kango's stein massive,
The Wake,
Monolake,
The Gladiators,
Gregory Isaacs,
Circle Jerks,
Harmonia,
Vladislav Delay,
Gichy Dan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mad Mike,
the Human League,
Dave Gahan,
F. McDonald,
X-101,
Letta Mbulu,
The Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Freddie Wadling,
Pantytec,
Minutemen,
Soul II Soul,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
MC5,
Masters at Work,
The Standells,
Kas Product,
Supertramp,
Nirvana,
June Days,
Gang Starr,
Mandrill,
Pet Shop Boys,
AZ,
Brand Nubian,
the Germs,
Oblivians,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Funky Four + One,
Heaven 17,
Pantaleimon,
The Last Poets,
The Vogues,
The Saints,
Johnny Clarke,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Moleskins,
Gong,
Hashim,
Cluster,
The Cosmic Jokers,
R.M.O.,
The Buckinghams,
Man Parrish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Buzzcocks,
Panda Bear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Amon Düül II,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.