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 Kenya and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
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 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed,
Camberwell Now,
Roxette,
Jesper Dahlback,
Circle Jerks,
Reagan Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Model 500,
The Five Americans,
Gang of Four,
Mr. Review,
Underground Resistance,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Joey Negro,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wings,
Quando Quango,
Negative Approach,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vladislav Delay,
E-Dancer,
Harpers Bizarre,
Subhumans,
Pierre Henry,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Average White Band,
Todd Terry,
Sugar Minott,
Bill Wells,
Jimmy McGriff,
Altered Images,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Germs,
Joyce Sims,
Rites of Spring,
Agent Orange,
Make Up,
Eric B and Rakim,
Whodini,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Surgeon,
Japan,
Guru Guru,
Duran Duran,
Lee Hazlewood,
X-102,
Shoche,
The Durutti Column,
Max Romeo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cal Tjader,
Sixth Finger,
Monks,
Icehouse,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.