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 Palau and from Taipei.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare 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 Nick Fraelich to the rock 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mad Mike,
Con Funk Shun,
The Remains,
Make Up,
Lower 48,
Marine Girls,
Crime,
Blancmange,
The Red Krayola,
Tears for Fears,
Ice-T,
Shoche,
Maurizio,
Accadde A,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Niagra,
Banda Bassotti,
Chris Corsano,
Sister Nancy,
World's Most,
Yaz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
X-101,
Surgeon,
Liliput,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sandy B,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erykah Badu,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Move,
The Slits,
Unwound,
Bob Dylan,
B.T. Express,
Black Sheep,
Youth Brigade,
Panda Bear,
Livin' Joy,
Quantec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Saccharine Trust,
Organ,
The Leaves,
Cecil Taylor,
The Buckinghams,
Graham Central Station,
Wally Richardson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Association,
Stiv Bators,
Crooked Eye,
Thee Headcoats,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronan,
The Cure,
The Index,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.