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 Bolivia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron 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 Frankie Knuckles to the funk 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Johnny Clarke,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Oneida,
Circle Jerks,
The Gladiators,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Angels of Light,
The Neon Judgement,
Hoover,
Ituana,
Henry Cow,
The Remains,
Quadrant,
Pussy Galore,
Cheater Slicks,
Jacques Brel,
The Velvet Underground,
Joy Division,
Bobby Sherman,
The Pretty Things,
Cameo,
The Seeds,
Niagra,
The Litter,
the Association,
The Count Five,
Yaz,
James White and The Blacks,
The Toasters,
Trumans Water,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roger Hodgson,
Marmalade,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Skaos,
Amazonics,
World's Most,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Human League,
Zapp,
Excepter,
Main Source,
Masters at Work,
Matthew Bourne,
Angry Samoans,
The Gap Band,
Tom Boy,
Mars,
Colin Newman,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
the Swans,
OOIOO,
Mary Jane Girls,
It's A Beautiful Day,
June Days,
Scan 7,
Erasure,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.