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 Belarus and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Tim Buckley to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Radio Birdman,
Neu!,
Silicon Teens,
Flipper,
Aswad,
Michelle Simonal,
Mantronix,
The Moody Blues,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gang Starr,
The Neon Judgement,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Index,
The Red Krayola,
The Busters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Reagan Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
the Germs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
U.S. Maple,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Vogues,
Icehouse,
Television,
Radiohead,
World's Most,
L. Decosne,
Al Stewart,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Bananas,
Marvin Gaye,
The Misunderstood,
Byron Stingily,
Maleditus Sound,
Make Up,
Graham Central Station,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
Rekid,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
LL Cool J,
The Gap Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Moby Grape,
Accadde A,
Rhythm & Sound,
Groovy Waters,
The Smiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hashim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Morten Harket,
Roy Ayers,
Yazoo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.