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 Mauritania and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Scott Walker to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Black Pus,
Alison Limerick,
Jerry's Kids,
Nick Fraelich,
La Düsseldorf,
Glenn Branca,
Organ,
The Beau Brummels,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sexual Harrassment,
Duran Duran,
Funkadelic,
Second Layer,
Blossom Toes,
Desert Stars,
Buzzcocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Todd Rundgren,
Electric Prunes,
Khruangbin,
The Stooges,
Grauzone,
The Vogues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Alice Coltrane,
Motorama,
kango's stein massive,
Black Flag,
Arcadia,
Moss Icon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bush Tetras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Reagan Youth,
Los Fastidios,
This Heat,
The Walker Brothers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Machine,
AZ,
Scratch Acid,
Ultra Naté,
the Sonics,
The Wake,
Brand Nubian,
Goldenarms,
Mad Mike,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cluster,
Morten Harket,
Drexciya,
The Fall,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scrapy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Icehouse,
Simply Red,
Thee Headcoats,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.