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 Djibouti and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Todd Terry to the dance 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
The Human League,
Panda Bear,
Eric Dolphy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Real Kids,
Public Image Ltd.,
Second Layer,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Toasters,
Sällskapet,
Clear Light,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Order,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Kurtis Blow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultra Naté,
Siglo XX,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Five Americans,
The Zeros,
Pussy Galore,
Joy Division,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Moby Grape,
John Foxx,
The Dirtbombs,
Erykah Badu,
The Doors,
CMW,
The J.B.'s,
Animal Collective,
Niagra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Leaves,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nils Olav,
Warsaw,
Bobby Sherman,
Ice-T,
Judy Mowatt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joe Smooth,
Neil Young,
Lakeside,
Blancmange,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lee Hazlewood,
T.S.O.L.,
Stetsasonic,
AZ,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Byron Stingily,
The Remains,
Section 25,
Wire,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.