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 Bhutan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rites of Spring to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Eric Dolphy,
Lightning Bolt,
The Invisible,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fear,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brand Nubian,
Simply Red,
Gang Starr,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultravox,
Marshall Jefferson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Donald Byrd,
Aural Exciters,
Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Wake,
Sex Pistols,
Susan Cadogan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gladiators,
The Remains,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grey Daturas,
The Cowsills,
R.M.O.,
Model 500,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Sonics,
Gil Scott Heron,
Warsaw,
ABC,
Anakelly,
Smog,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Doors,
Frankie Knuckles,
Funky Four + One,
The Flesh Eaters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dawn Penn,
Quantec,
The Pretty Things,
June of 44,
Fat Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
Suburban Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
Davy DMX,
B.T. Express,
The Slackers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gun Club,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.