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 Denmark and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rites of Spring to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
The Cowsills,
Ossler,
Robert Hood,
The Searchers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Howard Jones,
Moss Icon,
Thompson Twins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Wells,
the Swans,
Technova,
Fifty Foot Hose,
KRS-One,
Mark Hollis,
Michelle Simonal,
DJ Sneak,
FM Einheit,
Masters at Work,
Brick,
Avey Tare,
Reuben Wilson,
These Immortal Souls,
The Durutti Column,
The Litter,
Jacob Miller,
Freddie Wadling,
Make Up,
Henry Cow,
Sun City Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Morten Harket,
One Last Wish,
Alton Ellis,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Fortunes,
LL Cool J,
Gil Scott Heron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soul II Soul,
Pagans,
Cybotron,
Motorama,
Vladislav Delay,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Funkadelic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alice Coltrane,
Aswad,
The Fuzztones,
Rod Modell,
MDC,
Marshall Jefferson,
Amazonics,
Dennis Brown,
Panda Bear,
Organ,
Johnny Clarke,
Simply Red,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.