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 Malawi and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sexual Harrassment to the funk 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Excepter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
Junior Murvin,
The Five Americans,
Moebius,
Black Sheep,
Quadrant,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Morten Harket,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Prince Buster,
Buzzcocks,
Stetsasonic,
Anthony Braxton,
Massinfluence,
Nico,
Marc Almond,
Ohio Players,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
The Young Rascals,
The Count Five,
The Smoke,
Deakin,
Sister Nancy,
Outsiders,
Von Mondo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
Visage,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Vogues,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gabor Szabo,
The Raincoats,
Wings,
Cal Tjader,
Graham Central Station,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brand Nubian,
Delta 5,
Mars,
E-Dancer,
The Fire Engines,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Audionom,
Ronnie Foster,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.