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 Dominican Republic and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator 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 L. Decosne to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Radio Birdman,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
Country Teasers,
Absolute Body Control,
Television,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Star Department,
The Invisible,
Nico,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
Slick Rick,
Mad Mike,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
The Blackbyrds,
Public Enemy,
Pylon,
Oblivians,
The New Christs,
The Mojo Men,
Joy Division,
Lucky Dragons,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Grass Roots,
The Slackers,
Lou Christie,
Smog,
Mandrill,
Connie Case,
Eve St. Jones,
PIL,
Aloha Tigers,
The Beau Brummels,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bad Manners,
Barry Ungar,
Yusef Lateef,
Frankie Knuckles,
EPMD,
Scion,
Barbara Tucker,
Tears for Fears,
Procol Harum,
CMW,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
Maleditus Sound,
Peter & Gordon,
The Residents,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mission of Burma,
Infiniti,
Prince Buster,
Malaria!,
Barrington Levy,
Basic Channel,
Pantaleimon,
Hot Snakes,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.