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 South Sudan and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 David McCallum to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter & Gordon,
Altered Images,
Crime,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Reuben Wilson,
New Order,
The Mummies,
Freddie Wadling,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Eden Ahbez,
David McCallum,
Minutemen,
The Slits,
Parry Music,
R.M.O.,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Womack,
Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Letta Mbulu,
the Bar-Kays,
Absolute Body Control,
Model 500,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Vogues,
Moby Grape,
Joy Division,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fela Kuti,
The Count Five,
Connie Case,
Guru Guru,
Circle Jerks,
Tom Boy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sixth Finger,
MDC,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cowsills,
John Foxx,
Alphaville,
The Trojans,
Dennis Brown,
KRS-One,
the Human League,
Warsaw,
The Cramps,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Blossom Toes,
Bob Dylan,
Donny Hathaway,
Lindisfarne,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.