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 Singapore and from Halifax.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Pagans to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Boz Scaggs,
Subhumans,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers,
DNA,
B.T. Express,
Excepter,
Make Up,
Camberwell Now,
Siglo XX,
Rites of Spring,
Radio Birdman,
Soul II Soul,
Iggy Pop,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Pop Group,
The Red Krayola,
Rakim,
Yaz,
Blake Baxter,
Mo-Dettes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hot Snakes,
Little Man,
Arthur Verocai,
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
The Kinks,
The Mummies,
Man Eating Sloth,
FM Einheit,
Ituana,
48th St. Collective,
Chris & Cosey,
Flipper,
The Dead C,
Q and Not U,
Eden Ahbez,
The Durutti Column,
Anthony Braxton,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boredoms,
Camouflage,
The Five Americans,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Halsall,
Vladislav Delay,
Symarip,
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
David McCallum,
Aaron Thompson,
Kayak,
Patti Smith,
The Barracudas,
Popol Vuh,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Toasters,
Parry Music,
Alphaville,
Boogie Down Productions,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.