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 Bangladesh and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 Matthew Halsall 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Vladislav Delay,
Fugazi,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monks,
The Velvet Underground,
The Black Dice,
Rakim,
Ossler,
Hoover,
Lucky Dragons,
R.M.O.,
Freddie Wadling,
Eve St. Jones,
Ultra Naté,
Man Parrish,
the Human League,
Icehouse,
Wasted Youth,
Sixth Finger,
The Knickerbockers,
Sarah Menescal,
Sam Rivers,
Scratch Acid,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Davy DMX,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grauzone,
Faust,
Porter Ricks,
Royal Trux,
Slave,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hot Snakes,
Peter & Gordon,
Faraquet,
Mission of Burma,
Althea and Donna,
The New Christs,
Aural Exciters,
Arthur Verocai,
The Music Machine,
Black Pus,
Shuggie Otis,
Bill Near,
Animal Collective,
AZ,
Ice-T,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dark Day,
Toni Rubio,
Au Pairs,
The Smiths,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Maurizio,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sound,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.