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 Bahamas and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 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 The Names to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Stiv Bators,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Talk Talk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Khruangbin,
Sister Nancy,
Con Funk Shun,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cymande,
The Motions,
Slave,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aaron Thompson,
cv313,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Adolescents,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultravox,
The Monks,
Lower 48,
Al Stewart,
Moss Icon,
Loose Ends,
The Gun Club,
Michelle Simonal,
Barry Ungar,
X-102,
Rufus Thomas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Lydon,
Alison Limerick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faust,
John Foxx,
Marcia Griffiths,
Negative Approach,
New Age Steppers,
Symarip,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lyres,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Altered Images,
Suicide,
Reagan Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Interpol,
8 Eyed Spy,
Connie Case,
Jawbox,
Robert Hood,
Howard Jones,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
R.M.O.,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.