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 Nepal and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Accra.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Fort Wilson Riot,
U.S. Maple,
Dead Boys,
Maurizio,
Arthur Verocai,
Quadrant,
Popol Vuh,
Erasure,
Ronnie Foster,
Youth Brigade,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash,
Terry Callier,
Sun City Girls,
Jacob Miller,
Jimmy McGriff,
Surgeon,
Panda Bear,
The Gun Club,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Sherman,
John Holt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Deepchord,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Average White Band,
Magazine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
Spoonie Gee,
Iggy Pop,
Ken Boothe,
Josef K,
Black Sheep,
Qualms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
Moss Icon,
The Smiths,
T.S.O.L.,
Alice Coltrane,
Brand Nubian,
Nils Olav,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mr. Review,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
June of 44,
The Slackers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fat Boys,
Mandrill,
Fatback Band,
Minnie Riperton,
KRS-One,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.