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 Norway and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dead Boys,
Agitation Free,
Sparks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Index,
Roy Ayers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jeff Mills,
B.T. Express,
Fluxion,
The Electric Prunes,
Boz Scaggs,
Tommy Roe,
Shuggie Otis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Searchers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Organ,
Johnny Clarke,
Jawbox,
T.S.O.L.,
Duran Duran,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Misunderstood,
Faust,
Joe Finger,
Harmonia,
Joyce Sims,
kango's stein massive,
Country Teasers,
Swans,
Television,
KRS-One,
Deadbeat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marine Girls,
Tubeway Army,
Qualms,
Spoonie Gee,
Reagan Youth,
Groovy Waters,
LL Cool J,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fatback Band,
Sam Rivers,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
F. McDonald,
The Cramps,
Yaz,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.