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 Luxembourg and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord 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 Nation of Ulysses to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
Maurizio,
The Offenders,
Dave Gahan,
Mr. Review,
Heaven 17,
The Walker Brothers,
Pylon,
Television Personalities,
Black Flag,
The Motions,
Blossom Toes,
Depeche Mode,
Kerri Chandler,
Outsiders,
Cal Tjader,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Spoonie Gee,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Urselle,
Zapp,
Bill Wells,
Flipper,
La Düsseldorf,
Radio Birdman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Parry Music,
The Slackers,
Sight & Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Invisible,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Danielle Patucci,
Junior Murvin,
Minny Pops,
JFA,
The Knickerbockers,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Star Department,
The Fortunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Amon Düül II,
Silicon Teens,
Siglo XX,
E-Dancer,
Eurythmics,
Donny Hathaway,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rapeman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Byrd,
The Count Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Barbara Tucker,
Henry Cow,
Shoche,
The Dirtbombs,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.