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 Denmark and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Michael McDonald 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Scion,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-102,
This Heat,
La Düsseldorf,
The Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
The Mojo Men,
The Knickerbockers,
David Axelrod,
Urselle,
Radio Birdman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Isaac Hayes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Robert Hood,
Negative Approach,
Section 25,
Groovy Waters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Quadrant,
Black Moon,
The Red Krayola,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pantytec,
Second Layer,
Wings,
The Beau Brummels,
Maleditus Sound,
Nils Olav,
These Immortal Souls,
The Toasters,
Newcleus,
The Music Machine,
Sister Nancy,
Alice Coltrane,
Boredoms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Index,
Slick Rick,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Procol Harum,
Mad Mike,
Pierre Henry,
The Count Five,
Avey Tare,
Joy Division,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed,
Ice-T,
Dark Day,
Severed Heads,
Mark Hollis,
the Bar-Kays,
Alton Ellis,
New Age Steppers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Idris Muhammad,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.