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 Ivory Coast and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 guitar 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 New Age Steppers to the electroclash 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Gun Club,
The Smiths,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
a-ha,
Wally Richardson,
Niagra,
The Misunderstood,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Pus,
Motorama,
Simply Red,
Spandau Ballet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
Arthur Verocai,
Scion,
Lucky Dragons,
The Black Dice,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sound Behaviour,
Groovy Waters,
Dead Boys,
The Litter,
The Vogues,
Archie Shepp,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Delta 5,
Brass Construction,
Juan Atkins,
Roy Ayers,
Ken Boothe,
The Smoke,
Fad Gadget,
The Music Machine,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yusef Lateef,
China Crisis,
Radiopuhelimet,
Index,
Hoover,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liliput,
Scientists,
The Mummies,
K-Klass,
Neil Young,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jesper Dahlback,
CMW,
Jeff Lynne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.