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 Nigeria and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron 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 Knickerbockers to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
La Düsseldorf,
Soft Cell,
Tomorrow,
The Modern Lovers,
Isaac Hayes,
Letta Mbulu,
Swans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Sparks,
Minnie Riperton,
Cecil Taylor,
Tom Boy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Amon Düül II,
Panda Bear,
Sandy B,
The Stooges,
Angry Samoans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lightning Bolt,
Blake Baxter,
Cybotron,
Radio Birdman,
Vladislav Delay,
Rufus Thomas,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Techniques,
Lucky Dragons,
MC5,
Reuben Wilson,
Ronan,
The Human League,
Roxy Music,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mummies,
Simply Red,
Monolake,
The Young Rascals,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Radiopuhelimet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Offenders,
Accadde A,
The Gladiators,
Nik Kershaw,
Thompson Twins,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Outsiders,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bronski Beat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Darondo,
MDC,
Theoretical Girls,
Pulsallama,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.