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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Victims to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
John Lydon,
Crash Course in Science,
Fear,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Residents,
Ronnie Foster,
Moss Icon,
Josef K,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Royal Trux,
Eddi Front,
Rekid,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Max Romeo,
The Black Dice,
Cheater Slicks,
Prince Buster,
Yusef Lateef,
Goldenarms,
Colin Newman,
Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Electric Prunes,
Das Ding,
Jacques Brel,
Lindisfarne,
The Slackers,
Eric Copeland,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Agitation Free,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Procol Harum,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang of Four,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nick Fraelich,
Ludus,
The Techniques,
Dawn Penn,
Severed Heads,
These Immortal Souls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Order,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Parrish,
Eurythmics,
Jesper Dahlback,
Glambeats Corp.,
Slick Rick,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Toasters,
The Knickerbockers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.