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 Bulgaria and from Tehran.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 DJ Sneak to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Steve Hackett,
Carl Craig,
Pagans,
Schoolly D,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hasil Adkins,
Slick Rick,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Move,
T.S.O.L.,
Sight & Sound,
ABBA,
Ornette Coleman,
Gichy Dan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Martian,
Bang On A Can,
Heaven 17,
Kayak,
Black Pus,
Susan Cadogan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bob Dylan,
Icehouse,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Moleskins,
Mars,
Tears for Fears,
Grey Daturas,
Ronan,
Joensuu 1685,
Fela Kuti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Donald Byrd,
Junior Murvin,
Sound Behaviour,
Man Parrish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Peter & Gordon,
Ken Boothe,
Tim Buckley,
The Sound,
Qualms,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The American Breed,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Angels of Light,
Eden Ahbez,
Marc Almond,
The Monks,
Warsaw,
The Skatalites,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.