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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pet Shop Boys to the funk 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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
June Days,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sex Pistols,
Pussy Galore,
Supertramp,
The Five Americans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Silicon Teens,
Rapeman,
The Mojo Men,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mark Hollis,
Newcleus,
John Foxx,
Bluetip,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cybotron,
Dawn Penn,
Roxy Music,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Human League,
The Buckinghams,
Todd Terry,
These Immortal Souls,
Blossom Toes,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
Aswad,
Neu!,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mission of Burma,
Andrew Hill,
Cluster,
Patti Smith,
Alton Ellis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Altered Images,
Fluxion,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Green,
Donald Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Scratch Acid,
Jawbox,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brand Nubian,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thee Headcoats,
Talk Talk,
T. Rex,
The Smoke,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.