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 Morocco and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Susan Cadogan,
Eve St. Jones,
AZ,
Slick Rick,
Sight & Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mr. Review,
Jeff Lynne,
The Doors,
the Bar-Kays,
Funkadelic,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aural Exciters,
Tim Buckley,
Visage,
The Alarm Clocks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marmalade,
Alice Coltrane,
The United States of America,
Qualms,
Lower 48,
Godley & Creme,
Isaac Hayes,
The Tremeloes,
Fatback Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Foxx,
New Order,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Invisible,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Litter,
The Last Poets,
B.T. Express,
Lindisfarne,
KRS-One,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gichy Dan,
Young Marble Giants,
Monolake,
Dual Sessions,
Faraquet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Remains,
Smog,
David Bowie,
The Dead C,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scientists,
The Blackbyrds,
Albert Ayler,
Laurel Aitken,
Kaleidoscope,
Brick,
The Monks,
The Cramps,
The Pretty Things,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick May,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.