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 Kiribati and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Foxx to the techno 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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Bang On A Can,
The Moody Blues,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Dolphy,
La Düsseldorf,
Symarip,
The Walker Brothers,
Banda Bassotti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Newcleus,
Bob Dylan,
Scion,
Suicide,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dead Boys,
Panda Bear,
The Buckinghams,
Tom Boy,
Fat Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Slave,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Zapp,
Howard Jones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David Axelrod,
Byron Stingily,
Althea and Donna,
Country Teasers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Interpol,
Malaria!,
Anakelly,
The Monks,
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Move,
Joey Negro,
Urselle,
KRS-One,
Toni Rubio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Warren Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
Yusef Lateef,
Sixth Finger,
New Age Steppers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Model 500,
Neil Young,
Boredoms,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cybotron,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.