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 Bulgaria and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord 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 Camberwell Now to the grunge 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
La Düsseldorf,
Matthew Bourne,
Davy DMX,
Marmalade,
Archie Shepp,
June Days,
David Bowie,
World's Most,
Ultra Naté,
Blake Baxter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mission of Burma,
the Soft Cell,
The Seeds,
Lungfish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang On A Can,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rakim,
Reuben Wilson,
Harmonia,
The Zeros,
DJ Sneak,
Black Flag,
Andrew Hill,
Scion,
Boredoms,
Swell Maps,
Cluster,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed,
The Misunderstood,
Buzzcocks,
10cc,
The Monks,
Carl Craig,
The Doors,
Man Parrish,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nirvana,
Josef K,
The Music Machine,
Ronan,
The Litter,
Rekid,
Matthew Halsall,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Buckinghams,
Donald Byrd,
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick May,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Con Funk Shun,
The Count Five,
ABBA,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.