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 Iran 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ituana to the rock 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Tom Boy,
Mars,
Ronan,
UT,
Malaria!,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lyres,
10cc,
The Star Department,
Black Bananas,
Masters at Work,
Nirvana,
Procol Harum,
Unrelated Segments,
Boredoms,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fugs,
Lou Christie,
Janne Schatter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DNA,
Roger Hodgson,
Technova,
Blancmange,
Ponytail,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Franke,
Glenn Branca,
Second Layer,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Foxx,
The Slits,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Index,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Con Funk Shun,
Thee Headcoats,
Pylon,
Heaven 17,
Barclay James Harvest,
Country Teasers,
James White and The Blacks,
Junior Murvin,
Suicide,
Stereo Dub,
Sandy B,
Half Japanese,
kango's stein massive,
Skriet,
Kas Product,
The Sonics,
Vainqueur,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.