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 Iran and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Wake to the disco 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Mars,
New York Dolls,
Althea and Donna,
Rapeman,
The Smiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Marc Almond,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Terry Callier,
Don Cherry,
Pussy Galore,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Babytalk,
Drexciya,
The Walker Brothers,
Swans,
Radio Birdman,
The Skatalites,
Wolf Eyes,
Interpol,
John Holt,
Sight & Sound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Görl,
ABBA,
FM Einheit,
Sarah Menescal,
Marvin Gaye,
Ultra Naté,
Gong,
The Martian,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Red Krayola,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
Dennis Brown,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cramps,
Rites of Spring,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eli Mardock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dave Gahan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Peter & Gordon,
Thee Headcoats,
Section 25,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Pop Group,
Scrapy,
Sandy B,
The Misunderstood,
Joy Division,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Judy Mowatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ossler,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.