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 Burundi and from Johannesburg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Pagans to the techno 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Mr. Review,
Albert Ayler,
Cecil Taylor,
Pagans,
DJ Sneak,
Alphaville,
John Lydon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Icehouse,
Henry Cow,
John Foxx,
Newcleus,
Television,
Ken Boothe,
Interpol,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Freddie Wadling,
Siglo XX,
Ice-T,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Make Up,
The Music Machine,
Wings,
These Immortal Souls,
Arcadia,
Suicide,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barbara Tucker,
The Barracudas,
Erasure,
Alton Ellis,
Zapp,
Donald Byrd,
Warsaw,
Porter Ricks,
Half Japanese,
The Techniques,
48th St. Collective,
The Searchers,
Flash Fearless,
The Motions,
Vainqueur,
Cameo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tim Buckley,
Sam Rivers,
Eli Mardock,
Godley & Creme,
The Real Kids,
X-102,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sister Nancy,
Boz Scaggs,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.