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 Laos and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Rekid,
Amazonics,
JFA,
Cymande,
Fatback Band,
Simply Red,
Spoonie Gee,
New Age Steppers,
Heaven 17,
Bang On A Can,
Dark Day,
John Foxx,
Reuben Wilson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Qualms,
Motorama,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cameo,
The Black Dice,
Andrew Hill,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
a-ha,
Rapeman,
Fad Gadget,
Vainqueur,
Yaz,
Q and Not U,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Almond,
The Real Kids,
Blancmange,
Girls At Our Best!,
Model 500,
Jeff Lynne,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Womack,
Gang of Four,
New York Dolls,
Tom Boy,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fugs,
Negative Approach,
Zero Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Zeros,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Graham Central Station,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Inner City,
Charles Mingus,
Tubeway Army,
Hashim,
Pulsallama,
Althea and Donna,
kango's stein massive,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.