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 Equatorial Guinea and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Marine Girls to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Moebius,
Ohio Players,
Gong,
Mandrill,
Skriet,
Kurtis Blow,
Sarah Menescal,
David McCallum,
In Retrospect,
Urselle,
Jerry's Kids,
Wings,
D'Angelo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Josef K,
Newcleus,
Bobby Sherman,
Ten City,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Terry,
Eric Copeland,
Delon & Dalcan,
Little Man,
Bluetip,
Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deakin,
This Heat,
Fat Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
KRS-One,
Max Romeo,
Anthony Braxton,
Yellowson,
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Lyres,
Index,
The Smiths,
Eli Mardock,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Count Five,
Reagan Youth,
Thompson Twins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Junior Murvin,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Swans,
the Association,
The Last Poets,
Trumans Water,
The Durutti Column,
The American Breed,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.