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 Azerbaijan and from Milan.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ronnie Foster,
Chris Corsano,
Ossler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Easy Going,
New Order,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
Iggy Pop,
Steve Hackett,
Siglo XX,
Matthew Bourne,
Dave Gahan,
Rekid,
Marine Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Cecil Taylor,
The Victims,
Mars,
Scrapy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soft Cell,
Adolescents,
Sun City Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Franke,
Susan Cadogan,
Trumans Water,
Deepchord,
Black Pus,
The Velvet Underground,
Joe Smooth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suburban Knight,
Groovy Waters,
Matthew Halsall,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeff Mills,
Popol Vuh,
Minnie Riperton,
kango's stein massive,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
EPMD,
D'Angelo,
Lindisfarne,
Panda Bear,
Sun Ra,
Scion,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fortunes,
Warren Ellis,
Derrick Morgan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gichy Dan,
Max Romeo,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.