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 Lebanon and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fear,
Cymande,
Boredoms,
Metal Thangz,
Oneida,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jandek,
X-Ray Spex,
The Birthday Party,
The Sonics,
The Last Poets,
Boz Scaggs,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Little Man,
Spoonie Gee,
Ohio Players,
Drexciya,
In Retrospect,
Public Enemy,
Judy Mowatt,
Joensuu 1685,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roy Ayers,
Quando Quango,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Green,
Trumans Water,
The Golliwogs,
Wally Richardson,
The Toasters,
Sex Pistols,
Peter & Gordon,
Symarip,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mars,
Franke,
Nils Olav,
Goldenarms,
Black Moon,
Barrington Levy,
EPMD,
T. Rex,
Dorothy Ashby,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Model 500,
Zapp,
Zero Boys,
Amazonics,
The Evens,
Rotary Connection,
Pole,
The Dead C,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pylon,
The Slits,
This Heat,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.