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 Croatia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
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 snare 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 The Human League to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Carl Craig,
Lou Christie,
Josef K,
Infiniti,
Donald Byrd,
Malaria!,
Absolute Body Control,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
Joensuu 1685,
Angry Samoans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Erasure,
The Fuzztones,
The Slackers,
The Gladiators,
Kas Product,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Whodini,
The J.B.'s,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brothers Johnson,
Slick Rick,
The American Breed,
Vainqueur,
The Standells,
Pere Ubu,
Nico,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
Drive Like Jehu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Banda Bassotti,
Chrome,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Desert Stars,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Fela Kuti,
Yusef Lateef,
Crime,
The Busters,
Joey Negro,
Massinfluence,
Alphaville,
Bronski Beat,
Cymande,
The Barracudas,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nirvana,
Bobby Womack,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Agitation Free,
Alice Coltrane,
Interpol,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.