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 Pakistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Girls At Our Best! to the rap 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crash Course in Science,
Thompson Twins,
Chrome,
The Misunderstood,
Avey Tare,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Graham Central Station,
Japan,
48th St. Collective,
Quando Quango,
Boogie Down Productions,
Blake Baxter,
Prince Buster,
Brand Nubian,
Hashim,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Offenders,
Youth Brigade,
OOIOO,
Howard Jones,
Deakin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Metal Thangz,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ossler,
John Holt,
Todd Terry,
Lalann,
The Techniques,
Y Pants,
Lou Christie,
Mr. Review,
The Dave Clark Five,
E-Dancer,
Gang of Four,
The Mummies,
Tres Demented,
The Victims,
Infiniti,
John Coltrane,
John Cale,
Maurizio,
Liliput,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kaleidoscope,
Oneida,
Quantec,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Remains,
Black Flag,
Radiohead,
Siglo XX,
Kerrie Biddell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
cv313,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Smiths,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.