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 Nepal and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Juan Atkins to the rock 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Monks,
Brothers Johnson,
Section 25,
Dawn Penn,
Kas Product,
Buzzcocks,
Crime,
Rekid,
Spandau Ballet,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
UT,
Jacob Miller,
AZ,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Y Pants,
Jeff Lynne,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sandy B,
T. Rex,
Ralphi Rosario,
Infiniti,
The Toasters,
the Association,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Joyce Sims,
June Days,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Cale,
The Gun Club,
The New Christs,
Wire,
Bronski Beat,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Blake Baxter,
The Selecter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Maleditus Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang of Four,
Television Personalities,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Royal Trux,
Don Cherry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Al Stewart,
Andrew Hill,
The Doors,
Slick Rick,
Magma,
The Misunderstood,
Fatback Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gap Band,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.