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 Mongolia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Beau Brummels to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tubeway Army,
Graham Central Station,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Move,
Bauhaus,
Public Enemy,
Slick Rick,
Quando Quango,
The Leaves,
Monks,
Hardrive,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dave Gahan,
Cymande,
Section 25,
The Zeros,
Eurythmics,
World's Most,
Toni Rubio,
Infiniti,
The Misunderstood,
Oneida,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
Japan,
Stetsasonic,
Au Pairs,
Index,
Fugazi,
Zapp,
The Star Department,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mandrill,
Thee Headcoats,
ABC,
Minutemen,
Sister Nancy,
Adolescents,
Lightning Bolt,
Darondo,
The Dirtbombs,
Pantytec,
The Saints,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Funky Four + One,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fela Kuti,
Rod Modell,
Marvin Gaye,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Radio Birdman,
DNA,
Arthur Verocai,
Joe Smooth,
Oblivians,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swans,
Malaria!,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.