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 Equatorial Guinea and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wasted Youth to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Dark Day,
The Dave Clark Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Terry Callier,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Durutti Column,
Popol Vuh,
Kenny Larkin,
The United States of America,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sugar Minott,
Pylon,
The Divine Comedy,
Iggy Pop,
The Slackers,
the Human League,
The Mojo Men,
PIL,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Lynne,
Barclay James Harvest,
Banda Bassotti,
Tom Boy,
Spandau Ballet,
Los Fastidios,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Blancmange,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minnie Riperton,
Piero Umiliani,
Parry Music,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Harmonia,
Isaac Hayes,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Moon,
Cheater Slicks,
The Smoke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Red Krayola,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Music Machine,
Section 25,
X-Ray Spex,
Excepter,
UT,
Eve St. Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Quantec,
Bobby Byrd,
Newcleus,
Kayak,
Todd Terry,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dave Gahan,
Livin' Joy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ken Boothe,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.