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 Spain and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 the Bar-Kays to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Amazonics,
Los Fastidios,
Boz Scaggs,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Germs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chrome,
Kenny Larkin,
Sonny Sharrock,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Bananas,
X-Ray Spex,
the Swans,
MC5,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sun Ra,
Moby Grape,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wolf Eyes,
Harry Pussy,
Rod Modell,
The Offenders,
Brass Construction,
UT,
The Gap Band,
a-ha,
Max Romeo,
Amon Düül,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Carl Craig,
Young Marble Giants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rapeman,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cybotron,
Warsaw,
Donald Byrd,
Henry Cow,
Black Moon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cal Tjader,
Monolake,
Slick Rick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thompson Twins,
Alphaville,
Vainqueur,
the Soft Cell,
Eric Dolphy,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.