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 India and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Skarface to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola 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?
Pierre Henry,
The Dirtbombs,
The Residents,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Motorama,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Franke,
X-101,
Shuggie Otis,
D'Angelo,
The Pop Group,
Khruangbin,
Marc Almond,
The Skatalites,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Masters at Work,
Buzzcocks,
Spoonie Gee,
Mo-Dettes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Basic Channel,
Surgeon,
Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
Maurizio,
Goldenarms,
Scratch Acid,
Toni Rubio,
Zero Boys,
Rotary Connection,
Malaria!,
Traffic Nightmare,
Second Layer,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Monochrome Set,
The Seeds,
The Birthday Party,
Delta 5,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Index,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Maleditus Sound,
The United States of America,
Cybotron,
Spandau Ballet,
The Dave Clark Five,
Glambeats Corp.,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Slackers,
Bobby Sherman,
Q65,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Young Rascals,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Babytalk,
Tomorrow,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.