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 Bahrain and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 This Heat to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Anakelly,
Ituana,
Peter and Kerry,
Dark Day,
Grey Daturas,
Minny Pops,
T.S.O.L.,
Absolute Body Control,
Pere Ubu,
Skriet,
Brothers Johnson,
Joensuu 1685,
The Shadows of Knight,
Idris Muhammad,
Tom Boy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mummies,
Roger Hodgson,
Eddi Front,
Deepchord,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neu!,
Panda Bear,
Ronan,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang On A Can,
The Birthday Party,
Iggy Pop,
The Beau Brummels,
The Seeds,
Accadde A,
Dual Sessions,
The Saints,
Swans,
the Normal,
Fad Gadget,
Graham Central Station,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Loose Ends,
The Martian,
The Slits,
The Fortunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Oneida,
Susan Cadogan,
Warsaw,
Essential Logic,
Crooked Eye,
Deakin,
Moss Icon,
Excepter,
the Soft Cell,
Kerrie Biddell,
Model 500,
Suicide,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.