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 Djibouti 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rock 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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
Das Ding,
AZ,
the Association,
Erasure,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Bananas,
Qualms,
The Martian,
Duran Duran,
Bad Manners,
Reuben Wilson,
K-Klass,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Toni Rubio,
Rakim,
Scott Walker,
Joe Smooth,
The New Christs,
Albert Ayler,
The Moleskins,
Surgeon,
Vladislav Delay,
Mars,
Traffic Nightmare,
48th St. Collective,
Johnny Clarke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sex Pistols,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Goldenarms,
Barbara Tucker,
Ponytail,
Curtis Mayfield,
Newcleus,
Steve Hackett,
EPMD,
Nik Kershaw,
Tubeway Army,
Fugazi,
The United States of America,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Womack,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rekid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dead C,
The Barracudas,
X-101,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
H. Thieme,
Cybotron,
The Toasters,
The Remains,
The Saints,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.