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 Mozambique and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Parry Music to the crunk 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roxy Music,
Donald Byrd,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dead C,
Magma,
Loose Ends,
Suburban Knight,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sällskapet,
MC5,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eddi Front,
The United States of America,
Quantec,
Thompson Twins,
Ken Boothe,
Whodini,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Maurizio,
Minor Threat,
Gastr Del Sol,
F. McDonald,
Mo-Dettes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Warsaw,
The Zeros,
The Neon Judgement,
Johnny Clarke,
Echospace,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Angels of Light,
The Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Tommy Roe,
Sun Ra,
Nick Fraelich,
Derrick Morgan,
AZ,
Hoover,
Main Source,
X-102,
The Gap Band,
Duran Duran,
The Grass Roots,
T.S.O.L.,
The Mummies,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
H. Thieme,
Yaz,
World's Most,
Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Masters at Work,
Joy Division,
Joe Smooth,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.