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 Colombia 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 United States of America to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
T. Rex,
Maurizio,
James White and The Blacks,
Bronski Beat,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Matthew Halsall,
The Kinks,
Section 25,
The Slits,
Kool Moe Dee,
Erykah Badu,
Ludus,
The Searchers,
Index,
Urselle,
U.S. Maple,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Underground Resistance,
Joe Finger,
Radio Birdman,
Isaac Hayes,
The Angels of Light,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ralphi Rosario,
Quando Quango,
Suburban Knight,
D'Angelo,
Brick,
The Monochrome Set,
Masters at Work,
Banda Bassotti,
Roxette,
The Wake,
Skaos,
The Moleskins,
Circle Jerks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Trumans Water,
Toni Rubio,
Suicide,
Desert Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Organ,
The Cramps,
Hasil Adkins,
Electric Prunes,
Amazonics,
Lalo Schifrin,
Royal Trux,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deepchord,
Letta Mbulu,
Wolf Eyes,
UT,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Knickerbockers,
Funky Four + One,
Piero Umiliani,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.