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 Bahamas and from Calgary.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Faraquet to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Crash Course in Science,
Heaven 17,
Motorama,
Cybotron,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
Khruangbin,
EPMD,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rosa Yemen,
X-101,
Barry Ungar,
The Mummies,
Little Man,
Jerry's Kids,
Infiniti,
The Count Five,
Malaria!,
Supertramp,
Lalann,
The American Breed,
Masters at Work,
Audionom,
Ronan,
Das Ding,
Lucky Dragons,
Soulsonic Force,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fugazi,
The Music Machine,
Danielle Patucci,
Magma,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Parry Music,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Flag,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Au Pairs,
Organ,
Cameo,
Bootsy Collins,
The Move,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Amazonics,
Bronski Beat,
Alton Ellis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ludus,
Alice Coltrane,
Erasure,
The Offenders,
Hardrive,
The Searchers,
Monks,
Tom Boy,
The Modern Lovers,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.