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 Togo and from Portland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the disco 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glenn Branca,
Joensuu 1685,
The Gladiators,
ABBA,
Grandmaster Flash,
Radio Birdman,
Aswad,
La Düsseldorf,
Piero Umiliani,
Circle Jerks,
The Toasters,
Eddi Front,
Charles Mingus,
Unwound,
Goldenarms,
China Crisis,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Tremeloes,
The Smoke,
Main Source,
Gang Starr,
The Beau Brummels,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Cal Tjader,
Lalo Schifrin,
H. Thieme,
John Cale,
Yusef Lateef,
Neil Young,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ludus,
Lindisfarne,
The Black Dice,
UT,
Ronan,
Tres Demented,
Bill Near,
Pulsallama,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marmalade,
Technova,
Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quadrant,
Deakin,
Toni Rubio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
Tubeway Army,
The Skatalites,
E-Dancer,
Eden Ahbez,
The Birthday Party,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.