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 Solomon Islands and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Parrish to the dance 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Monks,
Grauzone,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Durutti Column,
Quando Quango,
John Holt,
Brass Construction,
Ronnie Foster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Boredoms,
The Toasters,
The Zeros,
The Pretty Things,
Thee Headcoats,
Niagra,
Porter Ricks,
Delta 5,
Roxette,
Josef K,
Rites of Spring,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radiohead,
Anakelly,
John Lydon,
Derrick May,
MDC,
Slick Rick,
Silicon Teens,
Roxy Music,
Wire,
The Count Five,
The Vogues,
The Dead C,
John Coltrane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bob Dylan,
Los Fastidios,
The Evens,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Stooges,
Ten City,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Invisible,
The Wake,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Slits,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tears for Fears,
The Fugs,
Fela Kuti,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fugazi,
The Misunderstood,
Stetsasonic,
Rakim,
Glenn Branca,
Jeru the Damaja,
Second Layer,
World's Most,
Piero Umiliani,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.