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 Benin and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Sherman to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
Oneida,
Letta Mbulu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brick,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Youth Brigade,
Supertramp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Moby Grape,
kango's stein massive,
Whodini,
Ultravox,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
The Black Dice,
The New Christs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Massinfluence,
Dark Day,
Faraquet,
Saccharine Trust,
Model 500,
Anakelly,
Black Flag,
Grandmaster Flash,
Throbbing Gristle,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Y Pants,
Scott Walker,
B.T. Express,
Severed Heads,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rotary Connection,
Sex Pistols,
The Star Department,
Todd Rundgren,
Ralphi Rosario,
Excepter,
The Pretty Things,
MDC,
The Stooges,
Tears for Fears,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
AZ,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Searchers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
Radiohead,
PIL,
Fugazi,
Aloha Tigers,
The Grass Roots,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cymande,
Parry Music,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Görl,
Metal Thangz,
Junior Murvin,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.