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 Cameroon and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brothers Johnson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
Alton Ellis,
Roxy Music,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
Make Up,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gladiators,
Janne Schatter,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers,
Faust,
The Black Dice,
The Blackbyrds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Connie Case,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swell Maps,
Theoretical Girls,
Tim Buckley,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Bar-Kays,
Ossler,
The Busters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gichy Dan,
Technova,
Cheater Slicks,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Starr,
Slick Rick,
Joensuu 1685,
Model 500,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
X-101,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker,
The Doobie Brothers,
CMW,
Prince Buster,
The Birthday Party,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thompson Twins,
The Slackers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Star Department,
Khruangbin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Moody Blues,
Tommy Roe,
Camberwell Now,
Dead Boys,
The J.B.'s,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.