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 Tonga and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Intrusion,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yusef Lateef,
the Germs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ornette Coleman,
Aural Exciters,
Funky Four + One,
The Happenings,
Derrick Morgan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ituana,
Jeru the Damaja,
Thompson Twins,
Kayak,
Soul II Soul,
Robert Hood,
Depeche Mode,
Black Moon,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deakin,
Camouflage,
X-101,
The Barracudas,
EPMD,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Smog,
La Düsseldorf,
John Holt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
D'Angelo,
Man Parrish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Durutti Column,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
Laurel Aitken,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Juan Atkins,
Sandy B,
The Standells,
Can,
Jacques Brel,
The New Christs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q and Not U,
Susan Cadogan,
Howard Jones,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.