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 Paraguay 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes 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 Pole to the rock 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Organ,
Lalann,
F. McDonald,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Derrick Morgan,
Lightning Bolt,
The Leaves,
Circle Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amazonics,
The Motions,
H. Thieme,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
Al Stewart,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Wake,
Silicon Teens,
Marcia Griffiths,
Adolescents,
Dawn Penn,
FM Einheit,
Franke,
Funky Four + One,
Judy Mowatt,
Negative Approach,
Barbara Tucker,
The Blackbyrds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The New Christs,
The Count Five,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jimmy McGriff,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Panda Bear,
Bluetip,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Almond,
Eden Ahbez,
The Monks,
Sound Behaviour,
Nation of Ulysses,
Little Man,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jerry's Kids,
The Dead C,
Mars,
Kurtis Blow,
Deakin,
the Slits,
The Last Poets,
Lebanon Hanover,
Whodini,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Donald Byrd,
B.T. Express,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.