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 Mali and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Unrelated Segments to the electroclash 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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Toasters,
ABC,
Tears for Fears,
Don Cherry,
The Evens,
Barbara Tucker,
The Associates,
The Tremeloes,
Kaleidoscope,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mission of Burma,
Idris Muhammad,
Sexual Harrassment,
a-ha,
Sister Nancy,
Angry Samoans,
Quadrant,
Dave Gahan,
The Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Flipper,
Pussy Galore,
Livin' Joy,
Circle Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Blues Magoos,
Accadde A,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Black Bananas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ice-T,
H. Thieme,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerri Chandler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
Parry Music,
Monks,
Little Man,
Pantaleimon,
Godley & Creme,
Dead Boys,
The Gun Club,
Joe Finger,
Bill Near,
China Crisis,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
JFA,
Supertramp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sixth Finger,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.