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 East Timor and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Anthony Braxton to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Au Pairs,
The Smoke,
The Neon Judgement,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scan 7,
Henry Cow,
Rapeman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tears for Fears,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Thee Headcoats,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nick Fraelich,
The Trojans,
Davy DMX,
Chris Corsano,
Tres Demented,
Sarah Menescal,
Altered Images,
Frankie Knuckles,
OOIOO,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Vladislav Delay,
Pole,
Television Personalities,
DNA,
The Human League,
Organ,
The Birthday Party,
Brass Construction,
The Names,
The New Christs,
Mo-Dettes,
L. Decosne,
Gichy Dan,
Skaos,
Arthur Verocai,
Deakin,
Pylon,
Colin Newman,
Nas,
Malaria!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Barracudas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Silicon Teens,
Spandau Ballet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mars,
Morten Harket,
Camberwell Now,
Moss Icon,
The Selecter,
Albert Ayler,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.