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 Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 Matthew Halsall to the punk 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythim Is Rhythim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Joensuu 1685,
Frankie Knuckles,
June of 44,
Wasted Youth,
The Black Dice,
Neu!,
Stereo Dub,
Interpol,
Flash Fearless,
Nik Kershaw,
Ten City,
Swell Maps,
Grey Daturas,
Chris & Cosey,
The Saints,
The Doors,
The Young Rascals,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Last Poets,
Agitation Free,
Lyres,
The Seeds,
Qualms,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ituana,
Wally Richardson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Robert Hood,
Mo-Dettes,
Altered Images,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barbara Tucker,
Fat Boys,
Alton Ellis,
Royal Trux,
Reuben Wilson,
the Normal,
Alison Limerick,
John Lydon,
Con Funk Shun,
Adolescents,
Matthew Halsall,
Quantec,
Heaven 17,
Easy Going,
Rod Modell,
Public Enemy,
Camouflage,
David Bowie,
UT,
Marc Almond,
Skaos,
Ludus,
Surgeon,
Harmonia,
Pet Shop Boys,
Funkadelic,
X-102,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.