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 Seychelles and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar 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 Slick Rick to the dance 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Beau Brummels,
Matthew Halsall,
Charles Mingus,
Circle Jerks,
Glenn Branca,
Boz Scaggs,
Stereo Dub,
Amazonics,
Matthew Bourne,
Bang On A Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Harpers Bizarre,
Subhumans,
Eurythmics,
Junior Murvin,
Arthur Verocai,
Heaven 17,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Unwound,
Second Layer,
Eric Dolphy,
D'Angelo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
T.S.O.L.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bush Tetras,
Funkadelic,
The Blackbyrds,
The Searchers,
Reuben Wilson,
Mad Mike,
Marvin Gaye,
Little Man,
Das Ding,
The Red Krayola,
Pharoah Sanders,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Erasure,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
Interpol,
The Move,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scion,
Quantec,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Zeros,
The Angels of Light,
Hoover,
The Fortunes,
Sight & Sound,
Max Romeo,
Fela Kuti,
Derrick May,
Nils Olav,
Oneida,
Joe Smooth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.