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 Andorra and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Malaria! to the funk 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
the Association,
Ludus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Searchers,
the Slits,
The Monks,
Scratch Acid,
Lindisfarne,
The Human League,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
The Modern Lovers,
The Move,
Warsaw,
Von Mondo,
X-Ray Spex,
Bang On A Can,
The Vogues,
The Velvet Underground,
Fatback Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Young Marble Giants,
The Angels of Light,
Barry Ungar,
Moss Icon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Andrew Hill,
The Music Machine,
Zero Boys,
Morten Harket,
The Stooges,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skarface,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nico,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blancmange,
The Martian,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Max Romeo,
Funkadelic,
New Age Steppers,
Bronski Beat,
The Blues Magoos,
The Toasters,
Mark Hollis,
Mars,
Gabor Szabo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Todd Rundgren,
Harpers Bizarre,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Visage,
DNA,
Amazonics,
Surgeon,
Jacques Brel,
D'Angelo,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.