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 Czech Republic and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bob Dylan to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Mars,
Thompson Twins,
Index,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ludus,
Maleditus Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minny Pops,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stiv Bators,
Howard Jones,
The Names,
Boz Scaggs,
a-ha,
Crime,
Donald Byrd,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pylon,
Kaleidoscope,
EPMD,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mr. Review,
Morten Harket,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
World's Most,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wally Richardson,
Marvin Gaye,
Second Layer,
The Index,
H. Thieme,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ponytail,
AZ,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camouflage,
Sex Pistols,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Agitation Free,
Lucky Dragons,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Busters,
Q and Not U,
Archie Shepp,
Vladislav Delay,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Axelrod,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.