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 Portugal and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ 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 Stetsasonic to the electroclash 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Deakin,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Monks,
Black Moon,
Second Layer,
Shoche,
Moss Icon,
Spoonie Gee,
Drexciya,
Gong,
Black Bananas,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
MDC,
Depeche Mode,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fall,
X-Ray Spex,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mark Hollis,
Wire,
New Order,
One Last Wish,
Franke,
Carl Craig,
Ituana,
David Axelrod,
Throbbing Gristle,
Harmonia,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mummies,
Brass Construction,
Boz Scaggs,
Barrington Levy,
Model 500,
Metal Thangz,
K-Klass,
Ken Boothe,
Cheater Slicks,
B.T. Express,
Dark Day,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Panda Bear,
Iggy Pop,
Susan Cadogan,
The Vogues,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy Collins,
The Seeds,
the Slits,
Q65,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mary Jane Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Smoke,
The Stooges,
Erykah Badu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Kinks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.