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 Mozambique 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gang Gang Dance to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
The Kinks,
Boz Scaggs,
Scion,
David Axelrod,
Circle Jerks,
Steve Hackett,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roy Ayers,
Shuggie Otis,
Blake Baxter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suicide,
Ice-T,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gong,
Radio Birdman,
Glenn Branca,
Agent Orange,
Aloha Tigers,
One Last Wish,
ABBA,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smoke,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cal Tjader,
Flipper,
Bobby Sherman,
Moss Icon,
Crime,
Visage,
Girls At Our Best!,
Electric Prunes,
Crooked Eye,
Easy Going,
The Star Department,
The Dead C,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Au Pairs,
The Victims,
Sparks,
Matthew Halsall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wolf Eyes,
Pierre Henry,
the Germs,
X-101,
Sister Nancy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Golliwogs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Electric Prunes,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.