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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 R.M.O. to the rock 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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Boredoms,
Niagra,
Bobby Sherman,
Eddi Front,
Colin Newman,
Deakin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eurythmics,
The Cure,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Fear,
Section 25,
Al Stewart,
Howard Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
Stetsasonic,
Crime,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Monochrome Set,
The Pretty Things,
The Cowsills,
The Happenings,
Crooked Eye,
Monks,
The Fire Engines,
One Last Wish,
Reuben Wilson,
Blossom Toes,
The Young Rascals,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jacques Brel,
The Trojans,
Cecil Taylor,
Danielle Patucci,
Maurizio,
Mars,
Bad Manners,
John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Stereo Dub,
Curtis Mayfield,
Symarip,
The Blues Magoos,
Kayak,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oblivians,
The Neon Judgement,
Tommy Roe,
Los Fastidios,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
David Bowie,
The Count Five,
Prince Buster,
John Foxx,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.