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 Germany and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the electroclash 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythm & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Reagan Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Connie Case,
EPMD,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scratch Acid,
Oblivians,
Metal Thangz,
The Saints,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Interpol,
ABC,
Infiniti,
Surgeon,
Y Pants,
Radiohead,
Steve Hackett,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Flag,
The Happenings,
Symarip,
Tim Buckley,
The J.B.'s,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marvin Gaye,
The Smoke,
The Shadows of Knight,
B.T. Express,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Television Personalities,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kaleidoscope,
Barbara Tucker,
Parry Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gong,
Josef K,
Minutemen,
Barrington Levy,
Country Teasers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Association,
Fluxion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wings,
Bang On A Can,
Kas Product,
Grandmaster Flash,
Morten Harket,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantaleimon,
The Martian,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.