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 Albania and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Grass Roots to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Symarip,
Rekid,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stockholm Monsters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bronski Beat,
Surgeon,
Judy Mowatt,
Japan,
Banda Bassotti,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier,
Lou Christie,
Roxy Music,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fugs,
Freddie Wadling,
Faust,
Toni Rubio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Pus,
Dave Gahan,
Accadde A,
Danielle Patucci,
Tropical Tobacco,
Darondo,
10cc,
Leonard Cohen,
Henry Cow,
Hot Snakes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eli Mardock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Quadrant,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jandek,
Pierre Henry,
Marmalade,
Heaven 17,
Basic Channel,
Roger Hodgson,
John Cale,
Scratch Acid,
The Residents,
Model 500,
Black Flag,
Tears for Fears,
Girls At Our Best!,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeff Mills,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Starr,
Brass Construction,
Average White Band,
Roxette,
Bill Near,
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.