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 Papua New Guinea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Subhumans to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fat Boys,
Scientists,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Barry Ungar,
The Black Dice,
Boredoms,
The Velvet Underground,
R.M.O.,
A Certain Ratio,
Joe Smooth,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scion,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fuzztones,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Sherman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Bar-Kays,
Mandrill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gabor Szabo,
Chrome,
Jacob Miller,
Davy DMX,
The Happenings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dawn Penn,
Quando Quango,
The Invisible,
Lalo Schifrin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scratch Acid,
Rapeman,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mummies,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet,
Brick,
Index,
Make Up,
The Alarm Clocks,
Television,
Sandy B,
The Saints,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Leonard Cohen,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bob Dylan,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.