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 Cameroon and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Con Funk Shun to the rock 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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sly & The Family Stone 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?
DJ Style,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Moleskins,
Archie Shepp,
Siglo XX,
Section 25,
Accadde A,
Goldenarms,
The Moody Blues,
Rotary Connection,
Wolf Eyes,
Charles Mingus,
The Evens,
Procol Harum,
Ralphi Rosario,
David Bowie,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tom Boy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cheater Slicks,
Sight & Sound,
Rekid,
Bauhaus,
Ornette Coleman,
The Martian,
Sandy B,
Rhythm & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
L. Decosne,
Camouflage,
Deepchord,
Rosa Yemen,
The Last Poets,
Zero Boys,
Public Enemy,
Amon Düül II,
Royal Trux,
Wire,
Dead Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lou Reed,
MDC,
Vainqueur,
Electric Prunes,
Andrew Hill,
Buzzcocks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
PIL,
Panda Bear,
Todd Rundgren,
Erasure,
Kerri Chandler,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Wasted Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Durutti Column,
Maleditus Sound,
Robert Görl,
Sex Pistols,
The Smoke,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.