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 Sierra Leone and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Letta Mbulu to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
June Days,
The Smiths,
Morten Harket,
Magma,
Icehouse,
The Gun Club,
the Normal,
Roxy Music,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eddi Front,
Scientists,
Charles Mingus,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
the Sonics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Altered Images,
The Count Five,
Henry Cow,
Tears for Fears,
Patti Smith,
Suicide,
Susan Cadogan,
JFA,
The Busters,
the Association,
Jerry's Kids,
Jandek,
Rites of Spring,
Sixth Finger,
The Stooges,
FM Einheit,
James White and The Blacks,
Minny Pops,
Aloha Tigers,
E-Dancer,
Scott Walker,
Excepter,
Erasure,
Davy DMX,
Young Marble Giants,
Duran Duran,
Talk Talk,
Yaz,
X-101,
The Moody Blues,
Aural Exciters,
Nas,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jawbox,
Essential Logic,
Janne Schatter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Moon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Can,
Masters at Work,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.