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 Senegal and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the dance 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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed,
Ten City,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Don Cherry,
Peter and Kerry,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Foxx,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Bowie,
Flipper,
Cameo,
Inner City,
Moss Icon,
Brick,
This Heat,
Rapeman,
Gang of Four,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Anthony Braxton,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Sherman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jandek,
Heaven 17,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scrapy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Buzzcocks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Amazonics,
Tres Demented,
Tim Buckley,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Kinks,
Pussy Galore,
Monks,
Section 25,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Das Ding,
Grandmaster Flash,
Anakelly,
Eve St. Jones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Faraquet,
Man Parrish,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Black Sheep,
Unrelated Segments,
Kas Product,
Zero Boys,
Thompson Twins,
The Gap Band,
The Victims,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.