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 Nigeria and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bologna.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Boz Scaggs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound 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?
DNA,
Lyres,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lakeside,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Green,
The Happenings,
Al Stewart,
The Evens,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cure,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echospace,
Ten City,
Pantytec,
Mr. Review,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brick,
The Searchers,
Bang On A Can,
The Offenders,
Black Moon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Radio Birdman,
Darondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
This Heat,
Basic Channel,
Judy Mowatt,
Alton Ellis,
Terry Callier,
Moby Grape,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Symarip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Freddie Wadling,
Bronski Beat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dirtbombs,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Byrd,
The Five Americans,
Mark Hollis,
Delta 5,
Tres Demented,
David Axelrod,
The Associates,
Cheater Slicks,
Jerry's Kids,
Moebius,
Yazoo,
Black Flag,
Rufus Thomas,
Tubeway Army,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Donald Byrd,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.