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 Uruguay and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Todd Rundgren to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Outsiders,
Lakeside,
Graham Central Station,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joy Division,
Mandrill,
Hoover,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
Drexciya,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Hood,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Sherman,
Deakin,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Doors,
Popol Vuh,
Los Fastidios,
Cal Tjader,
B.T. Express,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Accadde A,
Boredoms,
the Swans,
World's Most,
Junior Murvin,
Cybotron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Agent Orange,
Fela Kuti,
Smog,
The Blackbyrds,
Yazoo,
John Holt,
Lee Hazlewood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bush Tetras,
Juan Atkins,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Archie Shepp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nick Fraelich,
U.S. Maple,
Boz Scaggs,
Eve St. Jones,
Basic Channel,
Public Image Ltd.,
Interpol,
Ornette Coleman,
Pylon,
The Dead C,
Livin' Joy,
Neu!,
Andrew Hill,
Angry Samoans,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.