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 Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Mo-Dettes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
Nas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pylon,
the Soft Cell,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moody Blues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Saints,
Althea and Donna,
Scott Walker,
X-102,
Mantronix,
the Sonics,
Gang Starr,
The Misunderstood,
Boz Scaggs,
The Black Dice,
Erykah Badu,
Kerri Chandler,
Schoolly D,
Minor Threat,
David Axelrod,
Thompson Twins,
The Vogues,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Trumans Water,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Grass Roots,
Unwound,
Hoover,
The Remains,
Crime,
Vainqueur,
John Holt,
Joy Division,
Smog,
Parry Music,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bang On A Can,
The Pretty Things,
The Buckinghams,
Flipper,
Aswad,
Junior Murvin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Christie,
The Angels of Light,
Skriet,
Letta Mbulu,
Brass Construction,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Guru Guru,
The Mighty Diamonds,
LL Cool J,
Sugar Minott,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Foxx,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.