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 Malta 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Todd Rundgren,
the Swans,
The Pop Group,
Susan Cadogan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kerri Chandler,
Alison Limerick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Drexciya,
China Crisis,
Gang of Four,
Judy Mowatt,
Wire,
Whodini,
Lou Christie,
Sparks,
Crash Course in Science,
Shuggie Otis,
Reagan Youth,
Darondo,
The Electric Prunes,
The United States of America,
The Alarm Clocks,
Procol Harum,
Severed Heads,
Panda Bear,
Fad Gadget,
Ludus,
Loose Ends,
New Order,
Robert Görl,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Mojo Men,
The American Breed,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barbara Tucker,
the Human League,
Royal Trux,
T.S.O.L.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pagans,
Pole,
Minnie Riperton,
Wings,
E-Dancer,
Excepter,
Fatback Band,
Qualms,
AZ,
Gregory Isaacs,
L. Decosne,
Moby Grape,
Visage,
Blake Baxter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tears for Fears,
Jawbox,
The Gories,
Gang Green,
Cal Tjader,
Arthur Verocai,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.