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 Paraguay and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 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 Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Slick Rick,
Rosa Yemen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Chris & Cosey,
Junior Murvin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Quantec,
Severed Heads,
Metal Thangz,
Massinfluence,
June Days,
The New Christs,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
China Crisis,
Bill Wells,
Max Romeo,
Kaleidoscope,
Half Japanese,
Cymande,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tears for Fears,
Minutemen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Neu!,
H. Thieme,
Depeche Mode,
Goldenarms,
Bang On A Can,
Minny Pops,
Ten City,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
Deakin,
Spoonie Gee,
Moby Grape,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
The Slits,
Black Bananas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donald Byrd,
Angry Samoans,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gabor Szabo,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Spandau Ballet,
Rufus Thomas,
E-Dancer,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Todd Rundgren,
Echospace,
The Blues Magoos,
Crispian St. Peters,
Das Ding,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.