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 Netherlands and from Salvador.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Franke to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Toni Rubio,
Kenny Larkin,
Essential Logic,
Procol Harum,
Camberwell Now,
Liliput,
David Axelrod,
Newcleus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
La Düsseldorf,
Hoover,
Subhumans,
Arab on Radar,
Sixth Finger,
The Smoke,
Bill Wells,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris Corsano,
The Wake,
New Age Steppers,
Accadde A,
The Divine Comedy,
The Happenings,
ABC,
Wings,
Desert Stars,
Hashim,
Ornette Coleman,
48th St. Collective,
Dead Boys,
a-ha,
Mission of Burma,
Harpers Bizarre,
Minny Pops,
The Durutti Column,
Nico,
Robert Wyatt,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Infiniti,
John Lydon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Lynne,
The Tremeloes,
F. McDonald,
Clear Light,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Standells,
David Bowie,
Sonic Youth,
the Association,
Don Cherry,
In Retrospect,
Nils Olav,
Dawn Penn,
Albert Ayler,
Eric Copeland,
Bush Tetras,
Banda Bassotti,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.