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 Macedonia and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blancmange to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Freddie Wadling,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Peter & Gordon,
Groovy Waters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quando Quango,
The Residents,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Half Japanese,
Moebius,
Underground Resistance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bill Near,
The Grass Roots,
Tomorrow,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Lou Reed,
Alice Coltrane,
Brand Nubian,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sun City Girls,
Khruangbin,
Rotary Connection,
Sarah Menescal,
Skriet,
Laurel Aitken,
The Martian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Flash Fearless,
The Fugs,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
Slave,
Fat Boys,
The Selecter,
Skarface,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Loose Ends,
The Doobie Brothers,
Main Source,
Can,
Barry Ungar,
Popol Vuh,
the Slits,
Hashim,
Quadrant,
Graham Central Station,
Yusef Lateef,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eli Mardock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Negative Approach,
Niagra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stiv Bators,
The Neon Judgement,
The Pop Group,
Robert Hood,
Fad Gadget,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.