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 Gambia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Althea and Donna to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
R.M.O.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Agent Orange,
Scientists,
The Move,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Sound,
Liliput,
The Cowsills,
the Soft Cell,
James White and The Blacks,
Section 25,
Easy Going,
The Fortunes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blake Baxter,
Sister Nancy,
June of 44,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Monolake,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
Japan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Banda Bassotti,
Wings,
Rakim,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radio Birdman,
Rufus Thomas,
David McCallum,
Minny Pops,
Ituana,
Nirvana,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blues Magoos,
Aaron Thompson,
Livin' Joy,
Cheater Slicks,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smoke,
Eden Ahbez,
Popol Vuh,
Charles Mingus,
New Order,
X-102,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Panda Bear,
The Velvet Underground,
Roxette,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Zeros,
The Moody Blues,
Black Sheep,
Ossler,
Robert Görl,
Basic Channel,
Barbara Tucker,
Fad Gadget,
The Dead C,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.