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 Comoros and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes 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 Michelle Simonal to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Accadde A,
Hasil Adkins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mr. Review,
Little Man,
Johnny Clarke,
Sister Nancy,
Barbara Tucker,
Slave,
Andrew Hill,
Animal Collective,
Fad Gadget,
Terrestrial Tones,
Suicide,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Freddie Wadling,
Audionom,
The Knickerbockers,
Suburban Knight,
The Durutti Column,
Massinfluence,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
cv313,
Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Slick Rick,
Quantec,
Joy Division,
Surgeon,
Peter and Kerry,
DJ Style,
Charles Mingus,
Maurizio,
Cymande,
The Invisible,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Minnie Riperton,
Magazine,
Dawn Penn,
Oblivians,
Wire,
Pulsallama,
Monolake,
Masters at Work,
Groovy Waters,
Gabor Szabo,
Amon Düül,
The J.B.'s,
Blake Baxter,
Bad Manners,
Man Eating Sloth,
Chris Corsano,
Liliput,
Glenn Branca,
Schoolly D,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Das Ding,
Monks,
Rites of Spring,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.