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 Ecuador and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Reuben Wilson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
Donny Hathaway,
Scott Walker,
Bronski Beat,
Godley & Creme,
Jeff Mills,
Radiopuhelimet,
U.S. Maple,
Television,
Zero Boys,
Boz Scaggs,
Isaac Hayes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Thompson Twins,
L. Decosne,
T.S.O.L.,
KRS-One,
Robert Wyatt,
The Leaves,
Maleditus Sound,
X-102,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Popol Vuh,
Metal Thangz,
The Invisible,
Alice Coltrane,
Bad Manners,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ludus,
DJ Sneak,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Near,
The Red Krayola,
Khruangbin,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gastr Del Sol,
Yaz,
H. Thieme,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
The Skatalites,
Deadbeat,
Severed Heads,
World's Most,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Fortunes,
K-Klass,
Au Pairs,
Moss Icon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Moon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
Suicide,
Agent Orange,
Judy Mowatt,
Terry Callier,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blake Baxter,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.