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 Paraguay and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pussy Galore to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Mighty Diamonds,
Symarip,
Susan Cadogan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
The American Breed,
Index,
Loose Ends,
Visage,
Khruangbin,
Crime,
Judy Mowatt,
Arab on Radar,
China Crisis,
The Gap Band,
Colin Newman,
The Remains,
Depeche Mode,
Heaven 17,
Jacob Miller,
The Fall,
JFA,
Kaleidoscope,
Tubeway Army,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Inner City,
Japan,
Patti Smith,
Tears for Fears,
New Order,
The Neon Judgement,
Freddie Wadling,
Brothers Johnson,
Mars,
Von Mondo,
Bobby Byrd,
Section 25,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sarah Menescal,
Neu!,
Skriet,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gabor Szabo,
The Durutti Column,
John Holt,
Peter & Gordon,
Howard Jones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soul Sonic Force,
A Certain Ratio,
Accadde A,
Prince Buster,
Toni Rubio,
Drive Like Jehu,
Talk Talk,
Television Personalities,
The Grass Roots,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dual Sessions,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.