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 Slovenia 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 The J.B.'s to the funk 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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echo & the Bunnymen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Zero Boys,
Cluster,
Outsiders,
Dead Boys,
Dawn Penn,
James White and The Blacks,
World's Most,
ABBA,
Bizarre Inc.,
Porter Ricks,
Man Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
Brothers Johnson,
The Motions,
Dave Gahan,
Negative Approach,
Todd Terry,
K-Klass,
The Barracudas,
The Saints,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Chris Corsano,
Erykah Badu,
Inner City,
Cymande,
Skriet,
Delta 5,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nik Kershaw,
Lightning Bolt,
Das Ding,
Neu!,
Pole,
Pylon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Move,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick May,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rites of Spring,
Kurtis Blow,
Crash Course in Science,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slick Rick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fall,
The Toasters,
Tres Demented,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scion,
JFA,
Freddie Wadling,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.