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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Model 500 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
In Retrospect,
Little Man,
Eric Dolphy,
Excepter,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fad Gadget,
Loose Ends,
The Selecter,
The Happenings,
Al Stewart,
The American Breed,
Jeff Mills,
Junior Murvin,
Archie Shepp,
Dead Boys,
Audionom,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Livin' Joy,
Laurel Aitken,
The United States of America,
Magma,
Scion,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scientists,
Ronan,
The Black Dice,
Cal Tjader,
Isaac Hayes,
Heaven 17,
Charles Mingus,
Stereo Dub,
Von Mondo,
Malaria!,
Nirvana,
Banda Bassotti,
The Monks,
David McCallum,
The Tremeloes,
Procol Harum,
The Associates,
Amon Düül II,
Camouflage,
Ronnie Foster,
The Seeds,
Average White Band,
Underground Resistance,
Slave,
Wings,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Barracudas,
Jacques Brel,
The Fuzztones,
Todd Terry,
Don Cherry,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Quando Quango,
Rosa Yemen,
Public Enemy,
Hoover,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.