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 Lithuania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Kinks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
Tears for Fears,
World's Most,
The Walker Brothers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scan 7,
Pierre Henry,
Fad Gadget,
Procol Harum,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Icehouse,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Bar-Kays,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Red Krayola,
The Leaves,
The Move,
Pantytec,
Heaven 17,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Byrd,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fluxion,
Brothers Johnson,
Rakim,
Crash Course in Science,
Crispian St. Peters,
One Last Wish,
Black Sheep,
Girls At Our Best!,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Q and Not U,
Juan Atkins,
Dead Boys,
Bluetip,
Graham Central Station,
Grey Daturas,
kango's stein massive,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Green,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Brand Nubian,
Pussy Galore,
Silicon Teens,
The Young Rascals,
Todd Rundgren,
Lakeside,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Junior Murvin,
Minor Threat,
Al Stewart,
Lalo Schifrin,
Y Pants,
Au Pairs,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.