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 Turkmenistan and from Beijing.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Crime to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Yazoo,
Cluster,
Gang of Four,
Sister Nancy,
Scratch Acid,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacques Brel,
Black Bananas,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Alarm Clocks,
Supertramp,
Faraquet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Judy Mowatt,
These Immortal Souls,
This Heat,
Lucky Dragons,
The Victims,
Sun Ra,
Wally Richardson,
Moebius,
Harry Pussy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Q and Not U,
The Move,
Visage,
Interpol,
Malaria!,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crooked Eye,
Kurtis Blow,
Pantaleimon,
Camouflage,
Deepchord,
Radio Birdman,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slave,
Sandy B,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Five Americans,
Derrick May,
The Neon Judgement,
Sam Rivers,
Rosa Yemen,
CMW,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Morten Harket,
Donald Byrd,
Hasil Adkins,
Bob Dylan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nils Olav,
The Saints,
Make Up,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.