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 Mauritania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Subhumans to the jazz 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Sight & Sound,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jeff Lynne,
Alton Ellis,
The Cowsills,
H. Thieme,
Terry Callier,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mo-Dettes,
Talk Talk,
Bobby Womack,
Tubeway Army,
U.S. Maple,
Clear Light,
The Selecter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Saints,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
The Invisible,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Residents,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Görl,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
10cc,
The Skatalites,
Tomorrow,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Gang Dance,
FM Einheit,
Deakin,
EPMD,
David McCallum,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Beau Brummels,
cv313,
Das Ding,
Barry Ungar,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Theoretical Girls,
Cal Tjader,
Iggy Pop,
Jerry's Kids,
Reuben Wilson,
B.T. Express,
Wire,
Dual Sessions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blancmange,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Busters,
Trumans Water,
Oblivians,
Don Cherry,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.