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 Venezuela and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Gang Gang Dance to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Rapeman,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Blues Magoos,
Bluetip,
Von Mondo,
Crooked Eye,
Inner City,
Minny Pops,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blake Baxter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Max Romeo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
David Bowie,
Fad Gadget,
Ossler,
Warsaw,
John Holt,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Wells,
The Black Dice,
Pagans,
The Birthday Party,
Charles Mingus,
Colin Newman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chris & Cosey,
Arcadia,
Dual Sessions,
Goldenarms,
Jeru the Damaja,
Malaria!,
Amon Düül II,
Robert Wyatt,
The Doors,
Cal Tjader,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Youth Brigade,
Cymande,
Derrick May,
New Age Steppers,
Boredoms,
Duran Duran,
Symarip,
Wasted Youth,
48th St. Collective,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tom Boy,
Robert Görl,
Little Man,
Kayak,
Eurythmics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sonic Youth,
Mars,
Godley & Creme,
Tres Demented,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.