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 Lithuania and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Harpers Bizarre to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jacques Brel,
Roxy Music,
Deepchord,
Vladislav Delay,
New Order,
Shoche,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Groovy Waters,
Lakeside,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Sex Pistols,
The Real Kids,
Minutemen,
a-ha,
Barclay James Harvest,
Morten Harket,
Avey Tare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Move,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The United States of America,
The Grass Roots,
June of 44,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sandy B,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dark Day,
Trumans Water,
David Axelrod,
Neu!,
The Moody Blues,
Outsiders,
Motorama,
Au Pairs,
Prince Buster,
Scrapy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Invisible,
Lindisfarne,
CMW,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wings,
Kaleidoscope,
Bauhaus,
New Age Steppers,
The Buckinghams,
The Wake,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smoke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Todd Terry,
Joe Smooth,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.