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 Samoa and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 David Bowie 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 Johnny Osbourne to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Morten Harket,
Cymande,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Underground Resistance,
Josef K,
Pagans,
Peter & Gordon,
X-102,
Godley & Creme,
ABBA,
Slick Rick,
48th St. Collective,
The Blackbyrds,
Lyres,
Marmalade,
Yaz,
The Smiths,
Warsaw,
Wolf Eyes,
Suburban Knight,
Black Pus,
Connie Case,
The Monochrome Set,
The Doobie Brothers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moss Icon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Livin' Joy,
Joyce Sims,
Suicide,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ronan,
Soul II Soul,
Ultimate Spinach,
Public Enemy,
Easy Going,
Pulsallama,
Agent Orange,
The Golliwogs,
Dave Gahan,
Eve St. Jones,
Alison Limerick,
The Gun Club,
Make Up,
Roy Ayers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
E-Dancer,
Visage,
Nico,
Lalo Schifrin,
Con Funk Shun,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Alton Ellis,
Mad Mike,
Vladislav Delay,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.