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 Malawi and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro 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 Country Teasers to the disco 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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Urselle,
Minnie Riperton,
The Skatalites,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nation of Ulysses,
Terry Callier,
Infiniti,
Aural Exciters,
UT,
Al Stewart,
Fela Kuti,
Susan Cadogan,
Soul II Soul,
Eden Ahbez,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Starr,
Gichy Dan,
Eddi Front,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Technova,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Doors,
Glenn Branca,
Mo-Dettes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wire,
Gong,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shuggie Otis,
Suicide,
Tears for Fears,
Pere Ubu,
DNA,
John Cale,
Skaos,
Scientists,
Roxy Music,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül II,
Darondo,
ABC,
X-Ray Spex,
Bluetip,
Matthew Halsall,
Marine Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Toasters,
The Buckinghams,
Warren Ellis,
Moby Grape,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Black Sheep,
The Black Dice,
Lindisfarne,
Leonard Cohen,
New York Dolls,
Wolf Eyes,
Sarah Menescal,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.