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 Cuba and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Barry Ungar to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Yaz,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Flamin' Groovies,
Hot Snakes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Smog,
The Barracudas,
Yellowson,
Make Up,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Young Rascals,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
A Certain Ratio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Little Man,
Qualms,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Martian,
The Litter,
Chris & Cosey,
Gang of Four,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Black Dice,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kurtis Blow,
Bad Manners,
The Residents,
Barry Ungar,
Minny Pops,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Interpol,
Big Daddy Kane,
CMW,
Alison Limerick,
Todd Terry,
The Happenings,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Metal Thangz,
The Pop Group,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Red Krayola,
Au Pairs,
Freddie Wadling,
Prince Buster,
Arab on Radar,
The Kinks,
Sound Behaviour,
T. Rex,
Malaria!,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skaos,
Erasure,
Electric Prunes,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.