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 Russia and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Charles Mingus to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
ABC,
Fat Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ossler,
Suburban Knight,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Womack,
Groovy Waters,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Leaves,
La Düsseldorf,
Henry Cow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Detroit Cobras,
Carl Craig,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minor Threat,
Brothers Johnson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pussy Galore,
Toni Rubio,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
The Blues Magoos,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Los Fastidios,
Pantaleimon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Organ,
Minny Pops,
K-Klass,
Cymande,
Erasure,
Rufus Thomas,
The American Breed,
X-101,
Eric B and Rakim,
June Days,
Theoretical Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Surgeon,
Severed Heads,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Sherman,
The Walker Brothers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Television Personalities,
Peter & Gordon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rod Modell,
The Modern Lovers,
Pole,
The Martian,
Althea and Donna,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.