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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Neil Young to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Black Flag,
Morten Harket,
The Buckinghams,
H. Thieme,
Alice Coltrane,
Spoonie Gee,
Lindisfarne,
June of 44,
Robert Hood,
Inner City,
Loose Ends,
Brass Construction,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mojo Men,
Aural Exciters,
Das Ding,
Wolf Eyes,
Gong,
Pagans,
LL Cool J,
Lightning Bolt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masters at Work,
Pantaleimon,
Thompson Twins,
the Germs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quando Quango,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scientists,
The Wake,
Joe Smooth,
Pylon,
Skaos,
Eric Copeland,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Slits,
Davy DMX,
The Knickerbockers,
Soul II Soul,
Harmonia,
Heaven 17,
Robert Görl,
JFA,
Sight & Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Tom Boy,
Icehouse,
One Last Wish,
Henry Cow,
Ossler,
New York Dolls,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Seeds,
Jeff Mills,
Albert Ayler,
Index,
The Selecter,
The Litter,
The Electric Prunes,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.