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 Bangladesh and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Niagra 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Camouflage,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Arthur Verocai,
Talk Talk,
T.S.O.L.,
KRS-One,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Buckinghams,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yusef Lateef,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bob Dylan,
Tubeway Army,
Theoretical Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Erykah Badu,
Los Fastidios,
These Immortal Souls,
L. Decosne,
FM Einheit,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
AZ,
Schoolly D,
Livin' Joy,
Khruangbin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Gories,
The Dead C,
John Foxx,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
The Velvet Underground,
Graham Central Station,
The Fire Engines,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kayak,
Ice-T,
Aswad,
The Grass Roots,
Deadbeat,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun Ra,
In Retrospect,
The Durutti Column,
The Monks,
The Names,
Gang Starr,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeff Mills,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
Glenn Branca,
The Beau Brummels,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.