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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Calgary.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the dance 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dead C,
Maurizio,
U.S. Maple,
The Count Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ten City,
The Music Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
Television Personalities,
The Five Americans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
Rotary Connection,
The Birthday Party,
Urselle,
Agitation Free,
The Cramps,
The Mojo Men,
The Victims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spoonie Gee,
Erykah Badu,
The Leaves,
The Tremeloes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Josef K,
the Fania All-Stars,
Das Ding,
Crispian St. Peters,
Main Source,
One Last Wish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kenny Larkin,
The Buckinghams,
8 Eyed Spy,
The New Christs,
X-101,
Supertramp,
The Offenders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Magazine,
Grey Daturas,
Crime,
Patti Smith,
Hoover,
Absolute Body Control,
Marine Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cheater Slicks,
JFA,
PIL,
Fela Kuti,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.