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 Georgia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Simply Red to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Fugazi,
Aswad,
Sister Nancy,
Con Funk Shun,
Prince Buster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cabaret Voltaire,
B.T. Express,
Derrick Morgan,
Depeche Mode,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jeru the Damaja,
Das Ding,
Oblivians,
Fatback Band,
Monolake,
Lindisfarne,
Sällskapet,
Hoover,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Zeros,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wally Richardson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cure,
Sexual Harrassment,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
Bad Manners,
The Remains,
The Litter,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scratch Acid,
The Monochrome Set,
Lyres,
The Knickerbockers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pussy Galore,
Pulsallama,
Ten City,
Vainqueur,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
China Crisis,
Kas Product,
Joy Division,
Amon Düül,
Mark Hollis,
The Searchers,
Dark Day,
The Cramps,
Spoonie Gee,
The Index,
Janne Schatter,
Dead Boys,
Slave,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.