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 Uzbekistan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Masters at Work to the disco 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
The Fall,
Circle Jerks,
One Last Wish,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
Liliput,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
Derrick Morgan,
The Motions,
The United States of America,
48th St. Collective,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Womack,
Slick Rick,
Radiohead,
AZ,
Minny Pops,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
KRS-One,
Little Man,
Blancmange,
Roy Ayers,
Rufus Thomas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeff Mills,
Royal Trux,
Symarip,
Jacques Brel,
Heaven 17,
FM Einheit,
Gil Scott Heron,
Warren Ellis,
Das Ding,
Television,
Juan Atkins,
Todd Rundgren,
Kaleidoscope,
David McCallum,
Porter Ricks,
Radio Birdman,
Metal Thangz,
Maurizio,
The Blues Magoos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Unrelated Segments,
Mission of Burma,
Moby Grape,
Erykah Badu,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
UT,
The Smoke,
MDC,
Half Japanese,
Hasil Adkins,
Interpol,
Loose Ends,
Hoover,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.