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 Madagascar and from Calgary.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Sun City Girls to the crunk 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Isaac Hayes,
The Mojo Men,
Frankie Knuckles,
Little Man,
Black Bananas,
Carl Craig,
This Heat,
Matthew Bourne,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Fad Gadget,
Zapp,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Detroit Cobras,
Laurel Aitken,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hasil Adkins,
Can,
Duran Duran,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Trojans,
Mandrill,
Agent Orange,
Albert Ayler,
Pantytec,
Sister Nancy,
Howard Jones,
B.T. Express,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joey Negro,
Boogie Down Productions,
Porter Ricks,
X-101,
Blake Baxter,
Althea and Donna,
Slave,
Stockholm Monsters,
CMW,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Durutti Column,
Judy Mowatt,
Lee Hazlewood,
Chris & Cosey,
Negative Approach,
a-ha,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Steve Hackett,
Easy Going,
Ornette Coleman,
Slick Rick,
The Residents,
Nik Kershaw,
Nico,
Boredoms,
Q and Not U,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.