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 Russia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Slave to the grunge 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Yusef Lateef,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rakim,
Robert Hood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wire,
The Durutti Column,
OOIOO,
Arcadia,
The Dirtbombs,
Magazine,
Moby Grape,
Kurtis Blow,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Walker Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Swell Maps,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
Niagra,
Sun City Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Tommy Roe,
Thompson Twins,
Don Cherry,
Basic Channel,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June of 44,
Tomorrow,
Tears for Fears,
Funky Four + One,
The Martian,
The New Christs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultra Naté,
Lou Christie,
The United States of America,
Lindisfarne,
Sarah Menescal,
Organ,
The Gun Club,
Eve St. Jones,
Subhumans,
Yellowson,
Stereo Dub,
The Electric Prunes,
Saccharine Trust,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ronan,
The Buckinghams,
Scratch Acid,
Cybotron,
Mars,
Tubeway Army,
Infiniti,
Joe Finger,
Donald Byrd,
Rotary Connection,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.