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 Uzbekistan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
This Heat,
Minor Threat,
Black Moon,
Au Pairs,
Lyres,
Tubeway Army,
Cheater Slicks,
Suicide,
Wasted Youth,
Buzzcocks,
The Moleskins,
Newcleus,
Yazoo,
K-Klass,
The Golliwogs,
Yaz,
Kool Moe Dee,
Avey Tare,
The Selecter,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fall,
Sixth Finger,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hashim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Parry Music,
Lower 48,
Rites of Spring,
Colin Newman,
Eurythmics,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Albert Ayler,
The Invisible,
Silicon Teens,
Piero Umiliani,
Sällskapet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fat Boys,
A Certain Ratio,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Amon Düül,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Swans,
Stereo Dub,
The Neon Judgement,
Dead Boys,
Neil Young,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
OOIOO,
Supertramp,
Metal Thangz,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.