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 Marshall Islands and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Excepter to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
The Human League,
The Monks,
Neil Young,
The Doobie Brothers,
OOIOO,
Donald Byrd,
Todd Rundgren,
The Young Rascals,
The Walker Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
Outsiders,
The Invisible,
Crooked Eye,
Bizarre Inc.,
Monolake,
Electric Prunes,
Young Marble Giants,
Arab on Radar,
Flamin' Groovies,
Yaz,
kango's stein massive,
F. McDonald,
The Barracudas,
Sugar Minott,
Lou Christie,
Pulsallama,
Flipper,
Intrusion,
Underground Resistance,
E-Dancer,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
The Tremeloes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lucky Dragons,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mad Mike,
Ronan,
Albert Ayler,
Deakin,
Infiniti,
Moss Icon,
Yusef Lateef,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
The Count Five,
Pagans,
Eurythmics,
Essential Logic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bronski Beat,
Nils Olav,
New York Dolls,
Japan,
The Busters,
Goldenarms,
The Smoke,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.