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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes 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 Lakeside to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Pantaleimon,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wally Richardson,
Nik Kershaw,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed,
Marmalade,
Vladislav Delay,
Make Up,
Alphaville,
James White and The Blacks,
Aural Exciters,
Connie Case,
Moebius,
Yaz,
Malaria!,
Spandau Ballet,
Loose Ends,
The Remains,
The Walker Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Nick Fraelich,
The Litter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Victims,
Piero Umiliani,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joyce Sims,
The Leaves,
Black Sheep,
Joey Negro,
Sixth Finger,
Steve Hackett,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Davy DMX,
Tom Boy,
Mad Mike,
Rod Modell,
Tubeway Army,
Jacob Miller,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Faraquet,
Ornette Coleman,
Rekid,
Urselle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Qualms,
The Trojans,
Sällskapet,
Sonic Youth,
The Buckinghams,
Au Pairs,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.