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 Tuvalu and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sparks to the funk 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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Joe Finger,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kenny Larkin,
Pylon,
Urselle,
Sonny Sharrock,
David Bowie,
Goldenarms,
Severed Heads,
Funky Four + One,
EPMD,
Colin Newman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tropical Tobacco,
Negative Approach,
The Wake,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rekid,
Sarah Menescal,
The Velvet Underground,
Chrome,
Barry Ungar,
Althea and Donna,
Theoretical Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aural Exciters,
H. Thieme,
Silicon Teens,
Dead Boys,
Warren Ellis,
8 Eyed Spy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fall,
Barrington Levy,
Desert Stars,
FM Einheit,
Big Daddy Kane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jerry's Kids,
Radiohead,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wolf Eyes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lightning Bolt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hoover,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gregory Isaacs,
Siglo XX,
The Dirtbombs,
Iggy Pop,
Blancmange,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Youth Brigade,
Slave,
Ultravox,
the Normal,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.