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 Russia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 Inner City to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Supertramp,
Black Moon,
Aloha Tigers,
Sam Rivers,
Barry Ungar,
The Smoke,
Maleditus Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
The Last Poets,
The Young Rascals,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lower 48,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
Althea and Donna,
The Residents,
Blancmange,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Guru Guru,
Rhythm & Sound,
Barrington Levy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Public Enemy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jesper Dahlback,
Section 25,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Howard Jones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Franke,
Rotary Connection,
Delta 5,
The Music Machine,
OOIOO,
The Human League,
Saccharine Trust,
Flash Fearless,
Eden Ahbez,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roxette,
Basic Channel,
Josef K,
The Smiths,
Lakeside,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Index,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Martian,
DNA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tears for Fears,
Bluetip,
Whodini,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.