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 Cyprus and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Nico to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Howard Jones,
Ponytail,
Roxy Music,
ABC,
Harpers Bizarre,
Y Pants,
Circle Jerks,
Heaven 17,
The Remains,
Bluetip,
Alice Coltrane,
Quadrant,
Alphaville,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lyres,
Charles Mingus,
The Kinks,
KRS-One,
Wolf Eyes,
Idris Muhammad,
The Residents,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Urselle,
EPMD,
Ohio Players,
Jacques Brel,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Maurizio,
the Normal,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vladislav Delay,
Colin Newman,
Brass Construction,
This Heat,
Make Up,
ABBA,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Zeros,
Royal Trux,
Television,
Desert Stars,
Lakeside,
Neil Young,
Cybotron,
Barbara Tucker,
the Association,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Man Parrish,
Aaron Thompson,
Joy Division,
Bob Dylan,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Curtis Mayfield,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.