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 Belgium and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 New Age Steppers to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Buzzcocks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
AZ,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Real Kids,
Colin Newman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Siglo XX,
Porter Ricks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pagans,
Ohio Players,
Cecil Taylor,
Leonard Cohen,
Eve St. Jones,
Sam Rivers,
Sister Nancy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Divine Comedy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Janne Schatter,
Mad Mike,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Derrick May,
Albert Ayler,
Swell Maps,
Mo-Dettes,
Glenn Branca,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camouflage,
New Order,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Arab on Radar,
Ten City,
Joe Finger,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
MC5,
Wire,
The Modern Lovers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tom Boy,
The Mummies,
New York Dolls,
Chris & Cosey,
Alice Coltrane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lower 48,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Seeds,
Rotary Connection,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Peter and Kerry,
Deadbeat,
Suburban Knight,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.