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 Japan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Gichy Dan to the grunge 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Standells,
Subhumans,
Heaven 17,
Hot Snakes,
Arab on Radar,
Bobby Womack,
Ossler,
Franke,
Amon Düül II,
Todd Terry,
The Selecter,
Laurel Aitken,
Guru Guru,
The Velvet Underground,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New Order,
The Black Dice,
Josef K,
John Lydon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Youth Brigade,
Idris Muhammad,
Television,
Eve St. Jones,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
10cc,
Sonny Sharrock,
Slick Rick,
The Fugs,
Fear,
The Mojo Men,
The Zeros,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Infiniti,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Mills,
Joey Negro,
The New Christs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
Icehouse,
Oneida,
ABC,
Au Pairs,
The Victims,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Monochrome Set,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Visage,
Y Pants,
Supertramp,
This Heat,
Thee Headcoats,
Toni Rubio,
L. Decosne,
Procol Harum,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.