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 Cuba and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 A Certain Ratio to the disco 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Amon Düül II,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crooked Eye,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Reuben Wilson,
Interpol,
The Black Dice,
Joyce Sims,
Scrapy,
Toni Rubio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bush Tetras,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Searchers,
Carl Craig,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Angry Samoans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Qualms,
These Immortal Souls,
Pagans,
Soulsonic Force,
Bill Wells,
Letta Mbulu,
Zapp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jacques Brel,
Darondo,
Pere Ubu,
Porter Ricks,
Stockholm Monsters,
L. Decosne,
FM Einheit,
Faraquet,
The Moody Blues,
D'Angelo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pantytec,
Ultravox,
The Cowsills,
Lou Christie,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang of Four,
Radio Birdman,
Suburban Knight,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Agent Orange,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yaz,
Saccharine Trust,
The Zeros,
the Normal,
Alton Ellis,
Ludus,
Skaos,
Jerry's Kids,
New Age Steppers,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.