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 Djibouti and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 8 Eyed Spy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Ralphi Rosario,
Amazonics,
Barry Ungar,
the Swans,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Los Fastidios,
The Durutti Column,
Aaron Thompson,
Nico,
Juan Atkins,
Fluxion,
Pantytec,
The Searchers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ludus,
Agent Orange,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mark Hollis,
the Fania All-Stars,
CMW,
Circle Jerks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Thee Headcoats,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
The Slits,
The Real Kids,
DNA,
Minny Pops,
Liliput,
Joey Negro,
LL Cool J,
Urselle,
Slave,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Joyce Sims,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
KRS-One,
Joe Finger,
Brothers Johnson,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spoonie Gee,
Stetsasonic,
Siglo XX,
Franke,
Organ,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
Donny Hathaway,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doors,
Inner City,
Andrew Hill,
Blancmange,
Connie Case,
Clear Light,
Curtis Mayfield,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.