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 Armenia and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Blues Magoos to the grime 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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Saccharine Trust,
Lower 48,
E-Dancer,
Wolf Eyes,
Niagra,
The American Breed,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Robert Görl,
Supertramp,
Marc Almond,
Franke,
The Dirtbombs,
Cymande,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rosa Yemen,
OOIOO,
Mission of Burma,
Desert Stars,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Dave Clark Five,
David Axelrod,
The Doors,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Kayak,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy Collins,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Residents,
Model 500,
The Vogues,
Brick,
Drexciya,
Bad Manners,
Quando Quango,
The Sound,
Archie Shepp,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Toni Rubio,
Magma,
cv313,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Names,
Alison Limerick,
Glenn Branca,
Bang On A Can,
F. McDonald,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gladiators,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.