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 Seychelles and from Seoul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blake Baxter 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
ABC,
Lindisfarne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Black Dice,
X-101,
Gang of Four,
This Heat,
Talk Talk,
Fluxion,
The Blues Magoos,
Wolf Eyes,
Rosa Yemen,
K-Klass,
The Angels of Light,
The Invisible,
The Offenders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Todd Terry,
Maleditus Sound,
D'Angelo,
the Soft Cell,
Desert Stars,
Pole,
Letta Mbulu,
Moebius,
Reuben Wilson,
Derrick Morgan,
Pierre Henry,
Depeche Mode,
Von Mondo,
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Negative Approach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Juan Atkins,
The Standells,
Gang Starr,
Colin Newman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mr. Review,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Quando Quango,
F. McDonald,
Model 500,
Schoolly D,
Country Teasers,
Roger Hodgson,
Adolescents,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Count Five,
The Associates,
Eric B and Rakim,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Wake,
David Axelrod,
A Certain Ratio,
The Seeds,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.