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 Korea North 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the crunk 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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
ABC,
Pole,
Dark Day,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Standells,
Alton Ellis,
T.S.O.L.,
Masters at Work,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Swell Maps,
48th St. Collective,
Smog,
The Trojans,
Parry Music,
Outsiders,
Young Marble Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doobie Brothers,
Curtis Mayfield,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Newcleus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Negative Approach,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Vogues,
the Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
The Buckinghams,
Yazoo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roger Hodgson,
Khruangbin,
Sun Ra,
June of 44,
Black Flag,
Man Parrish,
Kas Product,
Crime,
Byron Stingily,
The Grass Roots,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gladiators,
Dead Boys,
Intrusion,
Jeff Mills,
Joe Finger,
Yellowson,
Marine Girls,
The Cowsills,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Happenings,
Delon & Dalcan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lightning Bolt,
Delta 5,
Ronnie Foster,
Amon Düül,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.