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 Colombia 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Jeru the Damaja to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
The Electric Prunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jacques Brel,
Delta 5,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Mummies,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Mojo Men,
Piero Umiliani,
David Axelrod,
New York Dolls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Offenders,
Black Sheep,
Tom Boy,
The Golliwogs,
The Count Five,
Slick Rick,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun City Girls,
Blancmange,
Bill Near,
Make Up,
Eric Dolphy,
Nick Fraelich,
Suicide,
Mission of Burma,
Tommy Roe,
The Smoke,
Harry Pussy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
UT,
World's Most,
The Names,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Organ,
The Index,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bronski Beat,
Patti Smith,
Marc Almond,
Dawn Penn,
Faraquet,
Sister Nancy,
Masters at Work,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Velvet Underground,
Simply Red,
Newcleus,
Rod Modell,
Bootsy Collins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pulsallama,
Jeru the Damaja,
JFA,
Franke,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.