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 Egypt 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Mojo Men to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Sandy B,
Brick,
The Knickerbockers,
Althea and Donna,
Surgeon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minor Threat,
Clear Light,
Television Personalities,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Danielle Patucci,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minny Pops,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Sherman,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Divine Comedy,
Tres Demented,
Mark Hollis,
Alice Coltrane,
Blancmange,
Cal Tjader,
Interpol,
Ken Boothe,
L. Decosne,
Todd Terry,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Vogues,
Technova,
Ponytail,
Animal Collective,
Soul Sonic Force,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dark Day,
Qualms,
Aloha Tigers,
The Velvet Underground,
Whodini,
Fugazi,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronnie Foster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lou Reed,
48th St. Collective,
Dead Boys,
Lebanon Hanover,
PIL,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eric Copeland,
The Move,
June Days,
Quando Quango,
Mo-Dettes,
Blake Baxter,
Radiohead,
K-Klass,
Harry Pussy,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.