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 Colombia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 R.M.O. to the crunk 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wings,
Marvin Gaye,
The Offenders,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Last Poets,
Robert Wyatt,
Slave,
ABBA,
The Fugs,
Livin' Joy,
Rakim,
Junior Murvin,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Lou Christie,
Funkadelic,
Roger Hodgson,
Malaria!,
Cluster,
Stetsasonic,
James White and The Blacks,
X-102,
Arab on Radar,
Second Layer,
Whodini,
T. Rex,
Parry Music,
Peter and Kerry,
Procol Harum,
Monolake,
Tim Buckley,
Anakelly,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dual Sessions,
Swans,
Agitation Free,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Skatalites,
Andrew Hill,
Yusef Lateef,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barry Ungar,
Shuggie Otis,
Joy Division,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Newcleus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Amazonics,
D'Angelo,
Clear Light,
Make Up,
Fatback Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Symarip,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
cv313, cv313, cv313, cv313.
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.