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 Argentina 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bush Tetras to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siglo XX,
Cameo,
Susan Cadogan,
Arab on Radar,
Scratch Acid,
Depeche Mode,
Alison Limerick,
Soul II Soul,
The Beau Brummels,
The Kinks,
Aural Exciters,
Donald Byrd,
The Pretty Things,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pylon,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sound,
Oblivians,
kango's stein massive,
The Martian,
Tears for Fears,
Minny Pops,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Star Department,
Motorama,
Man Parrish,
Connie Case,
Bobby Byrd,
Judy Mowatt,
Magma,
Zero Boys,
Zapp,
Nico,
The Black Dice,
The Techniques,
Erykah Badu,
The Fugs,
Slick Rick,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rosa Yemen,
Todd Terry,
The Modern Lovers,
Fela Kuti,
The Five Americans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crooked Eye,
Chrome,
Mo-Dettes,
The Litter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bad Manners,
Wolf Eyes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cybotron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.