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 Liechtenstein and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Donald Fagen 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 Mission of Burma to the electroclash 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Idris Muhammad,
Brass Construction,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
10cc,
Donald Byrd,
The Last Poets,
Lyres,
Lalann,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Tremeloes,
The Busters,
Technova,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Cybotron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tom Boy,
The Misunderstood,
Simply Red,
Jacob Miller,
Magazine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Yusef Lateef,
Mandrill,
Minutemen,
Erykah Badu,
Joyce Sims,
Matthew Bourne,
Sex Pistols,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crooked Eye,
The Gories,
China Crisis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sad Lovers and Giants,
FM Einheit,
Fatback Band,
Electric Prunes,
John Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
R.M.O.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Television Personalities,
Khruangbin,
The Red Krayola,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gun Club,
Flipper,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Schoolly D,
Connie Case,
Con Funk Shun,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Reagan Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Gladiators,
The Neon Judgement,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joe Finger,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.