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 Morocco and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Model 500 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Crispy Ambulance,
Das Ding,
Sparks,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Icehouse,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kurtis Blow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tomorrow,
The Doors,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Normal,
The Electric Prunes,
Porter Ricks,
Magma,
The Mummies,
Zapp,
The Names,
The Blackbyrds,
Scan 7,
Curtis Mayfield,
Moebius,
R.M.O.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Piero Umiliani,
Minnie Riperton,
Delta 5,
Nils Olav,
The Tremeloes,
Scott Walker,
T. Rex,
Reagan Youth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Outsiders,
Wally Richardson,
Slick Rick,
New Age Steppers,
EPMD,
The Remains,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Shoche,
Archie Shepp,
Kas Product,
The Misunderstood,
Alton Ellis,
Grandmaster Flash,
Little Man,
The Victims,
Model 500,
Nick Fraelich,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Animal Collective,
The United States of America,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.