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 United States and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Holger Czukay 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 New Age Steppers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
DNA,
Procol Harum,
The Evens,
Rufus Thomas,
F. McDonald,
Anakelly,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
These Immortal Souls,
Accadde A,
The Black Dice,
Subhumans,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
Pulsallama,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rekid,
Slick Rick,
EPMD,
Lyres,
Alice Coltrane,
Average White Band,
Todd Terry,
a-ha,
the Swans,
Flash Fearless,
Lucky Dragons,
The Residents,
Tim Buckley,
Ituana,
Intrusion,
Scion,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cure,
Hoover,
Ken Boothe,
Charles Mingus,
The Victims,
Pantaleimon,
Dual Sessions,
Toni Rubio,
Boz Scaggs,
The Zeros,
Scrapy,
Chris Corsano,
Oblivians,
Ossler,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Magazine,
Newcleus,
Alphaville,
Porter Ricks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Patti Smith,
Goldenarms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grauzone,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Human League,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.