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 Afghanistan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
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 organ 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
John Coltrane,
Depeche Mode,
The Doobie Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Alice Coltrane,
World's Most,
Model 500,
Make Up,
Gang Green,
Easy Going,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
The Gun Club,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fela Kuti,
Mad Mike,
Little Man,
Mo-Dettes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
DNA,
Icehouse,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
Index,
Visage,
FM Einheit,
Second Layer,
Sly & The Family Stone,
T. Rex,
the Soft Cell,
Sam Rivers,
Inner City,
Neu!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Saints,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Soulsonic Force,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
June Days,
Lucky Dragons,
Arthur Verocai,
Tres Demented,
the Human League,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Durutti Column,
Pylon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oneida,
The Black Dice,
Hardrive,
One Last Wish,
kango's stein massive,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
The Fall,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.