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 Burkina and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Crispian St. Peters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe 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 harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Terry Callier,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yellowson,
The Gap Band,
Rites of Spring,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minor Threat,
The Gories,
Heaven 17,
Danielle Patucci,
The Pop Group,
The Victims,
Theoretical Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Velvet Underground,
Soulsonic Force,
The Barracudas,
Cal Tjader,
Au Pairs,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
June of 44,
ABC,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DJ Sneak,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fat Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scott Walker,
Man Parrish,
Shoche,
David Bowie,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eli Mardock,
Harry Pussy,
Sixth Finger,
Tomorrow,
The Real Kids,
Skarface,
Kaleidoscope,
Yaz,
Girls At Our Best!,
Television,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sarah Menescal,
Suicide,
Alice Coltrane,
Oneida,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wally Richardson,
Chrome,
The Count Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Darondo,
Drexciya,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.