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 Maldives and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 The Dirtbombs to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
Newcleus,
Organ,
Camberwell Now,
Intrusion,
Amon Düül,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Urselle,
Roger Hodgson,
Sister Nancy,
Rosa Yemen,
Kenny Larkin,
Motorama,
Don Cherry,
Loose Ends,
Nico,
FM Einheit,
Steve Hackett,
Trumans Water,
The Modern Lovers,
Toni Rubio,
John Cale,
Moebius,
Model 500,
Girls At Our Best!,
DJ Sneak,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minor Threat,
Hasil Adkins,
The Index,
the Normal,
Zapp,
World's Most,
The Gladiators,
Suburban Knight,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cure,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roy Ayers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lungfish,
Supertramp,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bauhaus,
The Gun Club,
The Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Alarm Clocks,
Isaac Hayes,
Fatback Band,
Ponytail,
The Names,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.