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 Equatorial Guinea 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Deepchord to the jazz 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer 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 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Hashim,
ABC,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monks,
Kenny Larkin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Joy Division,
Nirvana,
Steve Hackett,
The Five Americans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Au Pairs,
Scientists,
The Neon Judgement,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aaron Thompson,
Ten City,
Saccharine Trust,
Oneida,
Piero Umiliani,
The United States of America,
The Dead C,
Lalann,
Livin' Joy,
Aural Exciters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Martian,
Tubeway Army,
The Birthday Party,
B.T. Express,
Sixth Finger,
Darondo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sex Pistols,
Das Ding,
Skarface,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Con Funk Shun,
James White and The Blacks,
Sun City Girls,
Man Parrish,
Black Moon,
The Cowsills,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Camberwell Now,
Severed Heads,
John Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
Hasil Adkins,
Hoover,
Sarah Menescal,
The Misunderstood,
Groovy Waters,
Shoche,
Suburban Knight,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.