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 Haiti and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Freddie Wadling 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alton Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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 Toasters,
Echospace,
Mad Mike,
The Sound,
Y Pants,
Laurel Aitken,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
The Five Americans,
These Immortal Souls,
Sugar Minott,
Hardrive,
Fear,
Monolake,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeff Lynne,
The Birthday Party,
Circle Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Motions,
Arcadia,
The Mojo Men,
Anthony Braxton,
Fela Kuti,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mandrill,
Suicide,
Country Teasers,
Sandy B,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Desert Stars,
the Sonics,
Deakin,
Black Pus,
Quadrant,
Soul II Soul,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Isaac Hayes,
the Swans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Amon Düül II,
The Red Krayola,
Cybotron,
Blancmange,
Stiv Bators,
Lou Reed,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pylon,
Davy DMX,
Crispian St. Peters,
UT,
Lalo Schifrin,
Stereo Dub,
Roxy Music,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Seeds,
Warsaw,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Morten Harket,
Drexciya,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.