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 Turkmenistan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barrington Levy to the disco 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Brass Construction,
The Fire Engines,
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül,
Crime,
Bang On A Can,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Babytalk,
A Certain Ratio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
10cc,
Basic Channel,
Amazonics,
Jimmy McGriff,
Y Pants,
Arab on Radar,
Youth Brigade,
The Vogues,
Vainqueur,
Don Cherry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dark Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Parry Music,
The Names,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The American Breed,
Fad Gadget,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Fraelich,
Andrew Hill,
The Angels of Light,
Tomorrow,
The Beau Brummels,
Sugar Minott,
The Five Americans,
The Blues Magoos,
Saccharine Trust,
Quantec,
Soft Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Alphaville,
Urselle,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yaz,
Supertramp,
The Standells,
D'Angelo,
Monolake,
Tommy Roe,
Nils Olav,
Pulsallama,
The Grass Roots,
Sällskapet,
Connie Case,
Tears for Fears,
cv313,
The Happenings,
Sarah Menescal,
Trumans Water,
Shoche,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.