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 Belarus and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Motorama to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Amon Düül,
Todd Terry,
Sällskapet,
Amon Düül II,
Duran Duran,
Faust,
Magazine,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gladiators,
Talk Talk,
Black Moon,
Bobby Sherman,
Pagans,
Y Pants,
Boz Scaggs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Birthday Party,
Davy DMX,
Pantytec,
The Angels of Light,
Lou Reed,
Dual Sessions,
Angry Samoans,
Graham Central Station,
The Remains,
Anakelly,
Michelle Simonal,
Wings,
Mr. Review,
Clear Light,
LL Cool J,
The Seeds,
Porter Ricks,
Aswad,
Sun Ra,
Radiohead,
Technova,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Slick Rick,
Gichy Dan,
Rosa Yemen,
Bluetip,
The Star Department,
Sex Pistols,
Roxette,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Oneida,
Peter & Gordon,
The Fuzztones,
the Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
The Real Kids,
Marmalade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Average White Band,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.