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 Libya and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Arab on Radar to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
The Fire Engines,
Ralphi Rosario,
Darondo,
La Düsseldorf,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
K-Klass,
Motorama,
Todd Terry,
James White and The Blacks,
Bill Near,
Janne Schatter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Unwound,
Main Source,
Ultimate Spinach,
Los Fastidios,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fall,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Drexciya,
Matthew Halsall,
Rekid,
Sister Nancy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Stetsasonic,
The Buckinghams,
Nik Kershaw,
Quadrant,
The Raincoats,
Pussy Galore,
Gong,
E-Dancer,
Arab on Radar,
The Monochrome Set,
Harmonia,
Roy Ayers,
John Cale,
Smog,
Stereo Dub,
Alton Ellis,
David Bowie,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
R.M.O.,
Sandy B,
Black Sheep,
Eden Ahbez,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Foxx,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mark Hollis,
Thompson Twins,
The Wake,
Max Romeo,
Loose Ends,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül II,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.