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 Mongolia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 New Order 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Can,
Whodini,
Arcadia,
The Misunderstood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Toni Rubio,
48th St. Collective,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eurythmics,
Rekid,
Malaria!,
David McCallum,
New Order,
Dual Sessions,
Carl Craig,
Sun City Girls,
Siglo XX,
Faraquet,
Clear Light,
The Grass Roots,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sparks,
Nico,
Faust,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tomorrow,
the Soft Cell,
The Monochrome Set,
Ohio Players,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Dolphy,
Matthew Halsall,
Circle Jerks,
Kaleidoscope,
Das Ding,
The Gun Club,
Inner City,
Aswad,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultra Naté,
Minor Threat,
Spoonie Gee,
Lucky Dragons,
The Walker Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
The Moleskins,
Joe Finger,
The Motions,
Cal Tjader,
Wings,
Mad Mike,
Nas,
The Durutti Column,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tres Demented,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crash Course in Science,
Mission of Burma,
Funkadelic,
Sun Ra,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.