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 Indonesia and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Wake to the rap 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Desert Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
Surgeon,
Donny Hathaway,
The Pop Group,
The Cowsills,
F. McDonald,
Chris Corsano,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scion,
Skriet,
The Invisible,
the Sonics,
Jeff Lynne,
Pet Shop Boys,
Moebius,
The Techniques,
Half Japanese,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minnie Riperton,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ituana,
Schoolly D,
Prince Buster,
Tears for Fears,
Steve Hackett,
Anthony Braxton,
James White and The Blacks,
Rosa Yemen,
Tubeway Army,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Althea and Donna,
The Smoke,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slick Rick,
Eddi Front,
Dawn Penn,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Idris Muhammad,
Sun Ra,
John Cale,
Shoche,
Charles Mingus,
The Kinks,
DJ Style,
Grey Daturas,
The Residents,
Bobby Byrd,
Bauhaus,
Dave Gahan,
Arcadia,
Bob Dylan,
The Blackbyrds,
The United States of America,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
Minny Pops,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.