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 Maldives and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Marcia Griffiths to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Magazine,
The Buckinghams,
Scrapy,
The Last Poets,
New Age Steppers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Masters at Work,
Barrington Levy,
Grauzone,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roxette,
Peter and Kerry,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Bananas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Little Man,
Colin Newman,
Panda Bear,
Gang Starr,
E-Dancer,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Outsiders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dennis Brown,
Anakelly,
X-101,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wasted Youth,
Minutemen,
Joe Smooth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Andrew Hill,
Flash Fearless,
Wally Richardson,
X-Ray Spex,
Q and Not U,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fela Kuti,
Stiv Bators,
the Slits,
Alton Ellis,
John Lydon,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pussy Galore,
June of 44,
The Black Dice,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dead C,
Erasure,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.