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 Honduras and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Names to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Dirtbombs,
K-Klass,
Visage,
Clear Light,
Wire,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Busters,
Jeff Mills,
Thee Headcoats,
Bronski Beat,
Excepter,
Godley & Creme,
Public Image Ltd.,
June of 44,
Amazonics,
X-Ray Spex,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Al Stewart,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
Scott Walker,
Gil Scott Heron,
June Days,
Yazoo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Magazine,
The Smoke,
John Foxx,
Hasil Adkins,
Deadbeat,
Bluetip,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
Electric Prunes,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Bananas,
Outsiders,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slackers,
The Names,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Intrusion,
The Smiths,
Animal Collective,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flipper,
Newcleus,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lakeside,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Young Rascals,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lebanon Hanover,
Y Pants,
Cluster,
The Sonics,
Technova,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.