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 Micronesia 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 Mummies to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Qualms,
Whodini,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Pus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jacob Miller,
Dawn Penn,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Animal Collective,
The Grass Roots,
John Cale,
The Last Poets,
Rosa Yemen,
Motorama,
Johnny Clarke,
Country Teasers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Albert Ayler,
The Saints,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arthur Verocai,
Connie Case,
Scion,
Wally Richardson,
Sugar Minott,
Aural Exciters,
Pantytec,
Pole,
Underground Resistance,
June of 44,
Marmalade,
X-102,
Dave Gahan,
Ituana,
The Associates,
Minor Threat,
The Young Rascals,
Bush Tetras,
Terrestrial Tones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The J.B.'s,
Tubeway Army,
Circle Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Smiths,
Alton Ellis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Toni Rubio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pierre Henry,
Sandy B,
Buzzcocks,
Sonic Youth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jacques Brel,
Massinfluence,
Junior Murvin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.