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 Sierra Leone and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Bill Near to the funk 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Rod Modell,
Au Pairs,
John Foxx,
Mandrill,
Wasted Youth,
Hashim,
Albert Ayler,
Monks,
Rufus Thomas,
Carl Craig,
Newcleus,
The Mojo Men,
Malaria!,
Rites of Spring,
Minor Threat,
Fugazi,
Soul II Soul,
Suicide,
Audionom,
Electric Prunes,
Suburban Knight,
Scan 7,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Zeros,
Half Japanese,
Gastr Del Sol,
Althea and Donna,
DNA,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
T.S.O.L.,
Rotary Connection,
Bluetip,
X-102,
The Blues Magoos,
EPMD,
Little Man,
Gichy Dan,
The J.B.'s,
Hoover,
Jacob Miller,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tres Demented,
Crime,
Harmonia,
Neil Young,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sun Ra,
KRS-One,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Names,
Eden Ahbez,
Hasil Adkins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terry Callier,
Brick,
Trumans Water,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.