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 Chad and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Man Parrish to the crunk 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane 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?
Lungfish,
Nation of Ulysses,
Depeche Mode,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Near,
Cameo,
Connie Case,
The Cosmic Jokers,
AZ,
Fluxion,
Fatback Band,
the Swans,
Surgeon,
Kaleidoscope,
The Birthday Party,
Altered Images,
Scion,
Con Funk Shun,
Max Romeo,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy Collins,
Clear Light,
Minor Threat,
Gang Gang Dance,
Symarip,
The Index,
Basic Channel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
F. McDonald,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fear,
Curtis Mayfield,
Metal Thangz,
Parry Music,
Prince Buster,
The Saints,
Black Sheep,
The Blues Magoos,
Sight & Sound,
The Star Department,
The Gladiators,
Bang On A Can,
Negative Approach,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Main Source,
Royal Trux,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Association,
Harmonia,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Doors,
The Evens,
Massinfluence,
Erykah Badu,
Theoretical Girls,
The Kinks,
Make Up,
Pere Ubu,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.