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 Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rakim to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
X-102,
Aloha Tigers,
Gichy Dan,
Archie Shepp,
Charles Mingus,
Visage,
Livin' Joy,
The Durutti Column,
Janne Schatter,
X-Ray Spex,
Dual Sessions,
The Monks,
Boredoms,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Womack,
The Victims,
James White and The Blacks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Toasters,
Camouflage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Toni Rubio,
Dawn Penn,
EPMD,
Peter & Gordon,
Procol Harum,
Gabor Szabo,
Lalann,
Lower 48,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Human League,
Ituana,
Ronnie Foster,
Lebanon Hanover,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pere Ubu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gories,
the Soft Cell,
Bauhaus,
The Associates,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erasure,
Theoretical Girls,
Skaos,
Agent Orange,
Thee Headcoats,
Ornette Coleman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jandek,
Roxette,
The Litter,
Eve St. Jones,
H. Thieme,
CMW,
Zapp,
Stetsasonic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.