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 Andorra and from Spokane.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 The Blackbyrds to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Jawbox,
Deepchord,
Q65,
The Saints,
Parry Music,
Junior Murvin,
Erasure,
Tres Demented,
Pere Ubu,
Blancmange,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minny Pops,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kurtis Blow,
Delon & Dalcan,
T.S.O.L.,
Judy Mowatt,
Iggy Pop,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cowsills,
The Doors,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kayak,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Sheep,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
AZ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Names,
Magma,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ituana,
The Gap Band,
Henry Cow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Gang Dance,
DNA,
Soft Cell,
Easy Going,
The Slackers,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
Steve Hackett,
Blake Baxter,
Lakeside,
Porter Ricks,
The Pop Group,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Slick Rick,
Max Romeo,
Scan 7,
Model 500,
Suburban Knight,
Kaleidoscope,
Jandek,
Scientists,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.