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 Micronesia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Porter Ricks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
The Techniques,
Pere Ubu,
Boredoms,
Zero Boys,
Mars,
Talk Talk,
The Blues Magoos,
Public Image Ltd.,
Barrington Levy,
Warsaw,
Half Japanese,
Al Stewart,
Mission of Burma,
Tim Buckley,
The Victims,
John Foxx,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Robert Görl,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
Cal Tjader,
OOIOO,
Little Man,
The Fire Engines,
Nils Olav,
Sarah Menescal,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Byrd,
a-ha,
Terrestrial Tones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Clear Light,
The Angels of Light,
Alphaville,
Metal Thangz,
Con Funk Shun,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
Negative Approach,
Tommy Roe,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pussy Galore,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Duran Duran,
Y Pants,
Josef K,
The Wake,
Sällskapet,
Suicide,
Wasted Youth,
Drexciya,
Colin Newman,
The Index,
Nik Kershaw,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ronan,
The Dead C,
Harry Pussy,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.