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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare 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 Public Image Ltd. to the electroclash 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Glambeats Corp.,
Banda Bassotti,
Liliput,
The Birthday Party,
Yazoo,
The Names,
The Divine Comedy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lindisfarne,
Sex Pistols,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tubeway Army,
Howard Jones,
Joe Smooth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
UT,
Rod Modell,
Soul II Soul,
U.S. Maple,
Neil Young,
Sandy B,
Ludus,
Wasted Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Pagans,
New Age Steppers,
The Gun Club,
The United States of America,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Big Daddy Kane,
Slave,
Mars,
Don Cherry,
Ponytail,
Magazine,
The Sonics,
Matthew Halsall,
Sister Nancy,
48th St. Collective,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Remains,
Eddi Front,
Maleditus Sound,
Ice-T,
Harmonia,
Rapeman,
Ultravox,
Boredoms,
Gong,
Interpol,
Can,
Livin' Joy,
Mo-Dettes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Agent Orange,
the Association,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.