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 New Zealand and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ultimate Spinach to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Max Romeo,
Peter & Gordon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alphaville,
Masters at Work,
Skriet,
cv313,
Suicide,
Marvin Gaye,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
Mission of Burma,
Lindisfarne,
Wasted Youth,
The Leaves,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Erasure,
T. Rex,
Kenny Larkin,
Nils Olav,
Bob Dylan,
Joey Negro,
Yazoo,
Tim Buckley,
KRS-One,
Guru Guru,
Joyce Sims,
Colin Newman,
LL Cool J,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Remains,
Glambeats Corp.,
Clear Light,
Surgeon,
Maleditus Sound,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronnie Foster,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marine Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cramps,
Aaron Thompson,
The Five Americans,
Fad Gadget,
The New Christs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
Gang of Four,
X-101,
Young Marble Giants,
the Normal,
Urselle,
Easy Going,
The Dave Clark Five,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.