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 Mauritania and from Calgary.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Searchers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
B.T. Express,
David Bowie,
Bobby Byrd,
David McCallum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Soul Sonic Force,
Icehouse,
Deepchord,
Stiv Bators,
Drive Like Jehu,
Harry Pussy,
The Count Five,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Vainqueur,
Henry Cow,
John Lydon,
Wally Richardson,
The Music Machine,
Circle Jerks,
The Fall,
JFA,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minutemen,
Janne Schatter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Infiniti,
Alphaville,
Fad Gadget,
Aswad,
John Foxx,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
Amon Düül,
Susan Cadogan,
H. Thieme,
Aural Exciters,
Sam Rivers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Holt,
These Immortal Souls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
One Last Wish,
The New Christs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Brand Nubian,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rapeman,
James White and The Blacks,
Bronski Beat,
Josef K,
Con Funk Shun,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Starr,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eurythmics,
Crooked Eye,
Patti Smith,
The Golliwogs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Walker Brothers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.