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 Dominican Republic and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Detroit Cobras to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Guru Guru,
Panda Bear,
Roger Hodgson,
Pantaleimon,
Q65,
Matthew Bourne,
Anthony Braxton,
Eden Ahbez,
JFA,
Brass Construction,
Freddie Wadling,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
T.S.O.L.,
Alton Ellis,
Organ,
Todd Terry,
Slick Rick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Aaron Thompson,
John Lydon,
Kaleidoscope,
Magazine,
OOIOO,
Monolake,
Rotary Connection,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang Gang Dance,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quantec,
Tears for Fears,
Cal Tjader,
Public Enemy,
Minny Pops,
Surgeon,
Bluetip,
Faust,
Kas Product,
Fugazi,
The Vogues,
Supertramp,
Angry Samoans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Franke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Amon Düül,
Monks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Henry Cow,
The Knickerbockers,
Von Mondo,
Moby Grape,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Standells,
Boz Scaggs,
Harry Pussy,
the Normal,
Goldenarms,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.