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 Bangladesh and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fear to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dennis Brown,
Anakelly,
Ponytail,
Marmalade,
Heaven 17,
Juan Atkins,
Mandrill,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gastr Del Sol,
Letta Mbulu,
Scratch Acid,
The Dirtbombs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Slits,
Iggy Pop,
The Doors,
Eric Copeland,
The Residents,
The Wake,
John Coltrane,
Zapp,
The Black Dice,
Isaac Hayes,
Ohio Players,
Matthew Bourne,
The American Breed,
La Düsseldorf,
MC5,
B.T. Express,
Average White Band,
Electric Prunes,
Hasil Adkins,
DJ Sneak,
Little Man,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ornette Coleman,
The Red Krayola,
Swell Maps,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Andrew Hill,
The Five Americans,
Dead Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Althea and Donna,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arthur Verocai,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radiopuhelimet,
Arab on Radar,
Mo-Dettes,
ABBA,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Slick Rick,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.