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 Guinea-Bissau and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Jacob Miller,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Count Five,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blues Magoos,
Pulsallama,
the Swans,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Funky Four + One,
Loose Ends,
Black Bananas,
Nico,
Dark Day,
Magazine,
Joe Smooth,
EPMD,
Eve St. Jones,
Sarah Menescal,
Idris Muhammad,
Buzzcocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Zapp,
Newcleus,
AZ,
Yaz,
Audionom,
Make Up,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Rundgren,
Robert Hood,
Q and Not U,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Youth Brigade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
Fat Boys,
Yazoo,
Leonard Cohen,
Boz Scaggs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boredoms,
Alice Coltrane,
Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Unwound,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jeff Lynne,
Blancmange,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lower 48,
Hardrive,
The Searchers,
Joe Finger,
Flipper,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Human League,
X-102,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.