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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 New Order to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Fugazi,
The Black Dice,
Model 500,
Joyce Sims,
Duran Duran,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Vogues,
Sun Ra,
Unrelated Segments,
Hasil Adkins,
Swell Maps,
Cameo,
The Moleskins,
Yaz,
Wolf Eyes,
Dave Gahan,
New Age Steppers,
Todd Rundgren,
Royal Trux,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Sherman,
The American Breed,
Eli Mardock,
The Music Machine,
CMW,
Monolake,
Black Bananas,
Quando Quango,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sam Rivers,
The Divine Comedy,
Maurizio,
The Fortunes,
Funkadelic,
Ken Boothe,
Erasure,
Quadrant,
Tim Buckley,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harpers Bizarre,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Golliwogs,
Lakeside,
Eric Copeland,
Gabor Szabo,
X-101,
Piero Umiliani,
Anthony Braxton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Harmonia,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
Can,
Unwound,
Ronnie Foster,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Peter & Gordon,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.