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 Seychelles and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the disco 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Organ,
Bobby Sherman,
Bauhaus,
Vladislav Delay,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Nils Olav,
Smog,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Dead C,
The Mojo Men,
Gabor Szabo,
Half Japanese,
The Mummies,
Crime,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Saccharine Trust,
Connie Case,
Minny Pops,
Yusef Lateef,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Monolake,
Magma,
Mad Mike,
Circle Jerks,
Hashim,
Royal Trux,
Amazonics,
The Names,
Con Funk Shun,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Blues Magoos,
Tom Boy,
AZ,
Can,
Zero Boys,
Qualms,
Pierre Henry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mars,
The Offenders,
Harpers Bizarre,
Skriet,
Brand Nubian,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gladiators,
Moby Grape,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Quadrant,
Negative Approach,
The Cure,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Smooth,
Lyres,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.