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 Ethiopia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Groovy Waters to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
World's Most,
Theoretical Girls,
Tom Boy,
Blancmange,
Lou Christie,
The Modern Lovers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rod Modell,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Doobie Brothers,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
the Normal,
Rekid,
Mark Hollis,
The Move,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Skatalites,
Lakeside,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Sound,
Interpol,
Oneida,
Babytalk,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Barry Ungar,
Youth Brigade,
the Swans,
Kayak,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Camberwell Now,
Roy Ayers,
Dorothy Ashby,
MC5,
Heaven 17,
Symarip,
Piero Umiliani,
Rotary Connection,
Supertramp,
Pagans,
Country Teasers,
Eden Ahbez,
Shuggie Otis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Khruangbin,
Warsaw,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Foxx,
Anthony Braxton,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Q and Not U,
Throbbing Gristle,
D'Angelo,
The Golliwogs,
Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
The Vogues,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.