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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide 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 The Barracudas to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Susan Cadogan,
David Bowie,
Negative Approach,
KRS-One,
48th St. Collective,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bauhaus,
D'Angelo,
Niagra,
Iggy Pop,
Lalann,
Infiniti,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Porter Ricks,
UT,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Spoonie Gee,
Zero Boys,
The Moleskins,
H. Thieme,
Donny Hathaway,
The Misunderstood,
Mission of Burma,
Marmalade,
Lucky Dragons,
Erasure,
Khruangbin,
Hasil Adkins,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Fuzztones,
The Names,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
Wolf Eyes,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Delta 5,
the Germs,
Bluetip,
The Beau Brummels,
Visage,
Depeche Mode,
Big Daddy Kane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Black Moon,
Godley & Creme,
The Motions,
the Sonics,
Marc Almond,
Rekid,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Residents,
The Knickerbockers,
The Monks,
Shoche,
The Raincoats,
Audionom,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gories,
Interpol,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.