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 Korea South and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 8 Eyed Spy 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
The American Breed,
Tim Buckley,
Angry Samoans,
Little Man,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Matthew Bourne,
MC5,
The Music Machine,
Porter Ricks,
Kayak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Accadde A,
Eurythmics,
Excepter,
The Divine Comedy,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radio Birdman,
Surgeon,
The Mojo Men,
KRS-One,
Alice Coltrane,
Vainqueur,
Dave Gahan,
Oblivians,
Gerry Rafferty,
Intrusion,
Oneida,
Infiniti,
Arcadia,
Lebanon Hanover,
In Retrospect,
L. Decosne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gabor Szabo,
Simply Red,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
PIL,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Enemy,
Matthew Halsall,
Animal Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Saccharine Trust,
Roy Ayers,
The Pop Group,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boogie Down Productions,
Radiohead,
FM Einheit,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
Black Sheep,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.