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 Burkina and from London.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eric B and Rakim 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Ituana,
Ronan,
Quantec,
The Moody Blues,
Faraquet,
Jeff Mills,
Roxette,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Buzzcocks,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Inner City,
Agitation Free,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Ultimate Spinach,
Smog,
Fugazi,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Circle Jerks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Judy Mowatt,
Oneida,
Peter & Gordon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Easy Going,
Archie Shepp,
Johnny Osbourne,
Technova,
Lungfish,
Eurythmics,
Charles Mingus,
Can,
The Grass Roots,
Pussy Galore,
Procol Harum,
Symarip,
Henry Cow,
Peter and Kerry,
The Misunderstood,
Young Marble Giants,
Scott Walker,
Bang On A Can,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Livin' Joy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Walker Brothers,
The Busters,
Leonard Cohen,
Sparks,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Holt,
The Mojo Men,
Hardrive,
Arcadia,
Rotary Connection,
Lindisfarne,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.