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 Senegal and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Moby Grape to the dance 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Y Pants,
Newcleus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dirtbombs,
Rites of Spring,
Black Flag,
Rakim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alphaville,
Jerry's Kids,
Michelle Simonal,
Slave,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cameo,
Black Bananas,
The Vogues,
Bronski Beat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Goldenarms,
Blossom Toes,
Marc Almond,
Todd Rundgren,
Amazonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Absolute Body Control,
Magazine,
Dawn Penn,
The Slits,
La Düsseldorf,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare,
Ohio Players,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Raincoats,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Judy Mowatt,
Ice-T,
Johnny Clarke,
Au Pairs,
Bill Wells,
Scion,
Drexciya,
The Selecter,
Andrew Hill,
Hashim,
Crime,
The Dead C,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eve St. Jones,
John Coltrane,
The Red Krayola,
Jeff Lynne,
Joy Division,
Joey Negro,
Youth Brigade,
Ronan,
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.