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 Calgary.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the rap 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
ABC,
One Last Wish,
June of 44,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
David Bowie,
Easy Going,
Connie Case,
the Normal,
Tom Boy,
Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Underground Resistance,
Rakim,
Funkadelic,
Bob Dylan,
John Holt,
the Germs,
Marc Almond,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Morten Harket,
Colin Newman,
Eli Mardock,
The Invisible,
The Zeros,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Procol Harum,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
Tres Demented,
The Pop Group,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gap Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Inner City,
Pylon,
Suburban Knight,
Tubeway Army,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Shuggie Otis,
Fat Boys,
Zapp,
The Durutti Column,
The Residents,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cal Tjader,
John Coltrane,
Japan,
Interpol,
Bootsy Collins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Monochrome Set,
The Saints,
Pierre Henry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fatback Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scion,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.