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 Andorra and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Wings to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultra Naté,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Echospace,
New York Dolls,
Unrelated Segments,
Adolescents,
Judy Mowatt,
Leonard Cohen,
Wally Richardson,
Ohio Players,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Smog,
The Names,
Deakin,
One Last Wish,
Yellowson,
The Angels of Light,
The Birthday Party,
Mars,
Skarface,
Intrusion,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sound,
Tom Boy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Patti Smith,
Magazine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Basic Channel,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Lungfish,
The Gun Club,
Barrington Levy,
Sandy B,
Cybotron,
Barry Ungar,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Piero Umiliani,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Young Marble Giants,
Alphaville,
New Order,
Zapp,
The Toasters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
DNA,
Porter Ricks,
The Gories,
Audionom,
Slave,
The Last Poets,
Gang of Four,
The New Christs,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.