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 Philippines and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Boredoms to the jazz 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
The Golliwogs,
Robert Hood,
Danielle Patucci,
The Neon Judgement,
Mantronix,
Goldenarms,
The J.B.'s,
Excepter,
Television Personalities,
Smog,
D'Angelo,
Monolake,
Lalo Schifrin,
Frankie Knuckles,
DNA,
Alison Limerick,
Fugazi,
The Divine Comedy,
Duran Duran,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultra Naté,
Surgeon,
Joensuu 1685,
Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aloha Tigers,
Swell Maps,
Scrapy,
Reagan Youth,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moody Blues,
the Human League,
Dual Sessions,
Simply Red,
Flamin' Groovies,
Whodini,
Arthur Verocai,
James White and The Blacks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Section 25,
Eddi Front,
Drive Like Jehu,
Second Layer,
Bizarre Inc.,
Buzzcocks,
Khruangbin,
Piero Umiliani,
Gang Green,
Supertramp,
World's Most,
Morten Harket,
Jacob Miller,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Human League,
The Monks,
Funkadelic,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.