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 Mongolia and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 Wolf Eyes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Neon Judgement,
Bauhaus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Faust,
Quadrant,
The Invisible,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Spandau Ballet,
MC5,
Mandrill,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wings,
The Mighty Diamonds,
48th St. Collective,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Darondo,
Aaron Thompson,
The Young Rascals,
Nils Olav,
Index,
These Immortal Souls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fear,
Al Stewart,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cybotron,
Public Enemy,
Barrington Levy,
Crime,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lou Christie,
Circle Jerks,
Rapeman,
The Misunderstood,
Dead Boys,
Newcleus,
ABC,
Chrome,
The Cure,
Monolake,
Reagan Youth,
Rod Modell,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sarah Menescal,
Soft Machine,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eli Mardock,
U.S. Maple,
Joe Finger,
Black Moon,
Idris Muhammad,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.