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 El Salvador and from Calgary.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Tommy Roe to the punk 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Raincoats,
Simply Red,
Fatback Band,
Neil Young,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
B.T. Express,
The Tremeloes,
Dennis Brown,
Howard Jones,
Sällskapet,
Jawbox,
Second Layer,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
World's Most,
Carl Craig,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The United States of America,
ABBA,
Joy Division,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Human League,
Banda Bassotti,
Drive Like Jehu,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Television Personalities,
Das Ding,
Bronski Beat,
The Angels of Light,
T.S.O.L.,
Nico,
Thompson Twins,
PIL,
Steve Hackett,
Janne Schatter,
Gastr Del Sol,
Livin' Joy,
Roxette,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Barry Ungar,
The Fall,
Severed Heads,
Angry Samoans,
Fad Gadget,
Mandrill,
Grandmaster Flash,
R.M.O.,
Barrington Levy,
Marc Almond,
MC5,
Leonard Cohen,
Skriet,
Brass Construction,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jacob Miller,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tears for Fears,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.