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 Iraq and from Calgary.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Faraquet to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Skatalites,
Albert Ayler,
The Birthday Party,
Essential Logic,
Alton Ellis,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Human League,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Association,
OOIOO,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brass Construction,
John Lydon,
Clear Light,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q65,
Sam Rivers,
Pylon,
Quadrant,
The Cowsills,
The Knickerbockers,
Flipper,
Ken Boothe,
Colin Newman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
The Sound,
Lou Christie,
Shoche,
Lalann,
Black Bananas,
Pole,
Lungfish,
Sugar Minott,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Susan Cadogan,
Banda Bassotti,
Underground Resistance,
Michelle Simonal,
Faust,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mission of Burma,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Blues Magoos,
The New Christs,
The Offenders,
Faraquet,
Neil Young,
Black Moon,
Brand Nubian,
Zapp,
the Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Busters,
Marc Almond,
Roxette,
DNA,
Al Stewart,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Doors,
Johnny Osbourne,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.