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 Bulgaria and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soft Machine to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Piero Umiliani,
Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eric Copeland,
Cal Tjader,
Pharoah Sanders,
a-ha,
Whodini,
Scientists,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Mills,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chrome,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fad Gadget,
Delta 5,
The Saints,
Ronan,
James White and The Blacks,
Matthew Halsall,
Kas Product,
Shoche,
Supertramp,
Laurel Aitken,
Hot Snakes,
The Techniques,
the Bar-Kays,
Y Pants,
U.S. Maple,
Agitation Free,
Skarface,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Görl,
Schoolly D,
Cymande,
Urselle,
Marine Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Sister Nancy,
Little Man,
The Black Dice,
Kerri Chandler,
the Swans,
Roxy Music,
Severed Heads,
Pole,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kenny Larkin,
FM Einheit,
The Pretty Things,
John Foxx,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Zeros,
Talk Talk,
Mars,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.