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 Syria and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Steve Hackett to the grunge 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Arthur Verocai,
Trumans Water,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Happenings,
FM Einheit,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Desert Stars,
Fluxion,
Tears for Fears,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jeff Lynne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tom Boy,
Masters at Work,
Kenny Larkin,
Zapp,
The Last Poets,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hasil Adkins,
The Music Machine,
The Offenders,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Matthew Halsall,
Sound Behaviour,
Avey Tare,
Wolf Eyes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scratch Acid,
Scott Walker,
John Cale,
Deadbeat,
The Modern Lovers,
The Victims,
Eurythmics,
Audionom,
Rotary Connection,
Bad Manners,
OOIOO,
Jimmy McGriff,
Panda Bear,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Janne Schatter,
Von Mondo,
Flipper,
David Axelrod,
The Kinks,
Eve St. Jones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gap Band,
Rites of Spring,
Lindisfarne,
The Human League,
Severed Heads,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.