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 Russia 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '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 Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Deepchord,
Sugar Minott,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
Bush Tetras,
Absolute Body Control,
Carl Craig,
Barry Ungar,
Brick,
Ohio Players,
Crime,
Morten Harket,
the Germs,
Ronan,
Lou Reed,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Funkadelic,
The Mojo Men,
Yaz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Parry Music,
Guru Guru,
Dennis Brown,
Graham Central Station,
Janne Schatter,
Organ,
Severed Heads,
Sound Behaviour,
Shoche,
Public Enemy,
Brand Nubian,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blues Magoos,
CMW,
The Last Poets,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
Pierre Henry,
the Normal,
The Velvet Underground,
The Names,
Davy DMX,
Lee Hazlewood,
Anakelly,
Jerry's Kids,
Newcleus,
F. McDonald,
Oneida,
Warren Ellis,
Loose Ends,
Matthew Bourne,
Interpol,
Kerrie Biddell,
Babytalk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Japan,
the Soft Cell,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
Donny Hathaway,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.