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 Swaziland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Erykah Badu to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Last Poets,
Negative Approach,
Alison Limerick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Mills,
Leonard Cohen,
Maurizio,
Soulsonic Force,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Hill,
The American Breed,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mad Mike,
Darondo,
Bronski Beat,
Yazoo,
The Sonics,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeff Lynne,
The Trojans,
DNA,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Move,
Liliput,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
John Cale,
Eve St. Jones,
Letta Mbulu,
Sister Nancy,
Gabor Szabo,
Simply Red,
Harry Pussy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
ABBA,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Christie,
Crooked Eye,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
James White and The Blacks,
Massinfluence,
DJ Sneak,
The Pretty Things,
Eden Ahbez,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Zapp,
The Busters,
Bauhaus,
Sandy B,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fat Boys,
Jacques Brel,
The Grass Roots,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Kinks,
Bobby Womack,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.