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 Tuvalu 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Banda Bassotti to the techno 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
The Young Rascals,
Marine Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
Vainqueur,
Gong,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oblivians,
Connie Case,
EPMD,
Radio Birdman,
Ituana,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Letta Mbulu,
David Axelrod,
Sandy B,
The Martian,
Lyres,
Bill Near,
Bang On A Can,
The Gories,
Fat Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Godley & Creme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Circle Jerks,
Brand Nubian,
Arthur Verocai,
Aaron Thompson,
K-Klass,
Bobby Sherman,
Intrusion,
Mantronix,
These Immortal Souls,
The Red Krayola,
Bauhaus,
Ken Boothe,
Graham Central Station,
Wasted Youth,
Wire,
New York Dolls,
The United States of America,
The Slits,
Los Fastidios,
Kool Moe Dee,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
The Fugs,
Deepchord,
Black Flag,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Stooges,
Whodini,
The Blues Magoos,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.