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 Lithuania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the electroclash 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
James White and The Blacks,
Scratch Acid,
Television,
Byron Stingily,
The Pop Group,
The Happenings,
The Martian,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mr. Review,
The Move,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Sonics,
the Fania All-Stars,
Malaria!,
The Shadows of Knight,
a-ha,
Alton Ellis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Todd Terry,
Cybotron,
Brand Nubian,
Masters at Work,
Unrelated Segments,
Peter & Gordon,
Ornette Coleman,
Section 25,
MC5,
The Grass Roots,
Subhumans,
Matthew Halsall,
Dead Boys,
The Young Rascals,
Ohio Players,
Whodini,
Bill Near,
The Cramps,
D'Angelo,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
Sight & Sound,
China Crisis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Monks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arthur Verocai,
Hardrive,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Judy Mowatt,
Flipper,
E-Dancer,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bob Dylan,
Gang Green,
Marmalade,
Donny Hathaway,
Lungfish,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.