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 Albania and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Marc Almond to the disco 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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dirtbombs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Donny Hathaway,
The Sonics,
Tom Boy,
The Motions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Judy Mowatt,
Half Japanese,
Slick Rick,
Barry Ungar,
The Index,
Liliput,
LL Cool J,
The Remains,
Motorama,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Technova,
The Doors,
Grauzone,
Young Marble Giants,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kerrie Biddell,
Leonard Cohen,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fugs,
The United States of America,
EPMD,
Flipper,
Rites of Spring,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Trumans Water,
Donald Byrd,
Vainqueur,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
F. McDonald,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
E-Dancer,
Tropical Tobacco,
Babytalk,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Neon Judgement,
The Standells,
Electric Prunes,
Maurizio,
Visage,
Bill Wells,
Ice-T,
La Düsseldorf,
The Gladiators,
Boogie Down Productions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suicide,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The J.B.'s,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quadrant,
Anakelly,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.