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 Botswana and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Camouflage,
Suicide,
Bush Tetras,
Popol Vuh,
H. Thieme,
Malaria!,
Arab on Radar,
Circle Jerks,
Essential Logic,
Siglo XX,
Lebanon Hanover,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Happenings,
Vainqueur,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
One Last Wish,
Animal Collective,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Junior Murvin,
Intrusion,
Marc Almond,
Scion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeff Lynne,
Subhumans,
Deakin,
The Gladiators,
Man Parrish,
The Index,
Derrick May,
Girls At Our Best!,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Young Rascals,
China Crisis,
Dark Day,
Erykah Badu,
Accadde A,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
a-ha,
the Slits,
Scrapy,
Stereo Dub,
Pylon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABC,
Johnny Clarke,
The Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare,
Lindisfarne,
Wasted Youth,
Index,
Spoonie Gee,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.