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 Uganda and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Electric Prunes to the funk 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Matthew Halsall,
Roxette,
Henry Cow,
Deakin,
Donald Byrd,
Mary Jane Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader,
Wire,
Jacques Brel,
Excepter,
These Immortal Souls,
Von Mondo,
10cc,
Ken Boothe,
Sister Nancy,
H. Thieme,
Minnie Riperton,
DJ Sneak,
Minny Pops,
The Star Department,
Bush Tetras,
Buzzcocks,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacob Miller,
Roy Ayers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nils Olav,
Reuben Wilson,
John Cale,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Piero Umiliani,
Soft Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
Maurizio,
The Smoke,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Green,
Sällskapet,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tres Demented,
Arab on Radar,
The Index,
Wasted Youth,
Magma,
Surgeon,
Brothers Johnson,
Accadde A,
Goldenarms,
Tom Boy,
Franke,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Görl,
The Martian,
Harpers Bizarre,
JFA,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
LL Cool J,
Loose Ends,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.