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 Nauru and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television 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 Isaac Hayes to the crunk 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Ultra Naté,
The Moody Blues,
Rotary Connection,
Junior Murvin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Invisible,
Quadrant,
ABBA,
Rapeman,
Rekid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Amazonics,
Mad Mike,
Sister Nancy,
Freddie Wadling,
Eurythmics,
Young Marble Giants,
Rosa Yemen,
Blossom Toes,
The Litter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Metal Thangz,
T.S.O.L.,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Wake,
Pulsallama,
Lightning Bolt,
The Modern Lovers,
Ossler,
H. Thieme,
the Normal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Monolake,
Warren Ellis,
Aural Exciters,
Blancmange,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-101,
Thompson Twins,
Ornette Coleman,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Christie,
Pierre Henry,
The Beau Brummels,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ten City,
Josef K,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crispian St. Peters,
Faraquet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.