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 Seychelles and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes 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 Kenny Larkin to the techno 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Slave,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Godley & Creme,
New York Dolls,
In Retrospect,
Terry Callier,
Peter & Gordon,
Arab on Radar,
the Normal,
the Soft Cell,
Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Youth Brigade,
Blancmange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camouflage,
Suburban Knight,
The Remains,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kayak,
Judy Mowatt,
Lalo Schifrin,
Arcadia,
The Moleskins,
Parry Music,
Swell Maps,
Sun City Girls,
New Order,
Soft Cell,
Scott Walker,
Gang of Four,
Boredoms,
The Stooges,
Desert Stars,
Rotary Connection,
Dual Sessions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Monks,
Anakelly,
Groovy Waters,
Aural Exciters,
Pantytec,
Tim Buckley,
The Modern Lovers,
Cymande,
Danielle Patucci,
Skaos,
Shuggie Otis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Los Fastidios,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eve St. Jones,
Cybotron,
Qualms,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Human League,
Wally Richardson,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.