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 Mauritania and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Archie Shepp to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Count Five,
Scion,
Make Up,
the Normal,
Nirvana,
Crime,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Arab on Radar,
Fugazi,
ABC,
June Days,
the Human League,
Mantronix,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Star Department,
Juan Atkins,
Second Layer,
Black Bananas,
Fatback Band,
Robert Wyatt,
The Mojo Men,
Barrington Levy,
Jeff Lynne,
Crooked Eye,
Absolute Body Control,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tom Boy,
Can,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fall,
Gong,
Eve St. Jones,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bronski Beat,
Groovy Waters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
the Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fuzztones,
Michelle Simonal,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
The Seeds,
Scratch Acid,
Oblivians,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Funky Four + One,
The American Breed,
David Axelrod,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
D'Angelo,
Wings,
The Sound,
Joey Negro,
Nick Fraelich,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Slackers,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.