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 Lebanon and from Tehran.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the güiro 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 The American Breed to the funk 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Davy DMX,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Anthony Braxton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ossler,
a-ha,
Joe Finger,
Maurizio,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Ituana,
Basic Channel,
June of 44,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Procol Harum,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Doors,
the Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mad Mike,
Eve St. Jones,
Curtis Mayfield,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nation of Ulysses,
48th St. Collective,
Alison Limerick,
Barbara Tucker,
X-Ray Spex,
Albert Ayler,
The Gories,
Spandau Ballet,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick May,
Kurtis Blow,
Crooked Eye,
Qualms,
Gang of Four,
The Leaves,
Roxette,
Rod Modell,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wings,
Suicide,
Bootsy Collins,
Suburban Knight,
Slave,
John Holt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
This Heat,
Dave Gahan,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.