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 El Salvador and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
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 at the first Suicide 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 Harry Pussy to the techno 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 Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
The Music Machine,
Chris & Cosey,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
the Fania All-Stars,
Swans,
Main Source,
Tres Demented,
Todd Rundgren,
Harry Pussy,
Blake Baxter,
Grauzone,
Jimmy McGriff,
Intrusion,
Janne Schatter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Average White Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Sight & Sound,
Gong,
Faust,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABC,
Thompson Twins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roger Hodgson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sex Pistols,
Half Japanese,
Qualms,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Robert Wyatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Au Pairs,
Charles Mingus,
MDC,
Panda Bear,
Maurizio,
Index,
Ossler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Altered Images,
David McCallum,
Sound Behaviour,
Ludus,
Niagra,
Rufus Thomas,
Funky Four + One,
Delta 5,
Bronski Beat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Simply Red,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fear,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terry Callier,
Gang Green,
Fad Gadget,
The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band.
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.