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 Paraguay and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kenny Larkin to the jazz 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
CMW,
Index,
Suburban Knight,
Judy Mowatt,
The Angels of Light,
The Tremeloes,
The Moody Blues,
Supertramp,
The Shadows of Knight,
Girls At Our Best!,
Infiniti,
Toni Rubio,
Soft Machine,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Susan Cadogan,
Lower 48,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantaleimon,
Trumans Water,
Radiohead,
Adolescents,
Bobby Sherman,
Fatback Band,
Slave,
Amazonics,
Dark Day,
Stockholm Monsters,
Camberwell Now,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ultra Naté,
Brothers Johnson,
Marvin Gaye,
Brand Nubian,
Cameo,
the Human League,
Siglo XX,
Man Parrish,
Whodini,
Mars,
The Divine Comedy,
Tres Demented,
Parry Music,
T. Rex,
Sixth Finger,
The Mummies,
Wire,
JFA,
Nik Kershaw,
Maurizio,
Desert Stars,
Moby Grape,
Jandek,
Mad Mike,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Silicon Teens,
Flipper,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.