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 Bahrain and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the crunk 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Tomorrow,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Delta 5,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Panda Bear,
Flipper,
Scan 7,
Henry Cow,
Moby Grape,
Masters at Work,
Barrington Levy,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs,
Gichy Dan,
Albert Ayler,
Sun Ra,
Nas,
The Misunderstood,
The Vogues,
Letta Mbulu,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Remains,
Jesper Dahlback,
DJ Style,
Mars,
The Move,
Bobby Byrd,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Harry Pussy,
Suicide,
Boredoms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Urselle,
The Count Five,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Pus,
Lower 48,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gabor Szabo,
Isaac Hayes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gap Band,
New Age Steppers,
Slave,
Sister Nancy,
Sugar Minott,
Dark Day,
David McCallum,
New York Dolls,
Easy Going,
Morten Harket,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sex Pistols,
Tubeway Army,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brand Nubian,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.