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 Kenya and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 Dawn Penn to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Faust,
Cymande,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smoke,
The Golliwogs,
Hardrive,
Grey Daturas,
Tres Demented,
Echospace,
The Pop Group,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Half Japanese,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cluster,
Camouflage,
The Angels of Light,
Scientists,
Make Up,
Roxette,
Organ,
Sarah Menescal,
Scion,
The Misunderstood,
The Gun Club,
Don Cherry,
Ohio Players,
David Axelrod,
Anthony Braxton,
Bronski Beat,
ABBA,
The Barracudas,
the Association,
This Heat,
Television Personalities,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Gang Starr,
Rites of Spring,
Marmalade,
The Blackbyrds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerri Chandler,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Near,
Blancmange,
Shuggie Otis,
Pylon,
The Toasters,
Lucky Dragons,
Charles Mingus,
Mark Hollis,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fire Engines,
Index,
Frankie Knuckles,
Colin Newman,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.