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 Angola and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 Funkadelic to the electroclash 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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Terrestrial Tones,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
T.S.O.L.,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Christie,
Stetsasonic,
June Days,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
R.M.O.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Letta Mbulu,
Motorama,
June of 44,
The Mummies,
Jawbox,
Erykah Badu,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
Crooked Eye,
Malaria!,
Agent Orange,
Ken Boothe,
The Blues Magoos,
Buzzcocks,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Pere Ubu,
Con Funk Shun,
The Beau Brummels,
The American Breed,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Negative Approach,
Amon Düül II,
Shuggie Otis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas,
Roy Ayers,
Scott Walker,
Bob Dylan,
Gang of Four,
Amon Düül,
Chrome,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Pus,
Swell Maps,
Janne Schatter,
Susan Cadogan,
Eddi Front,
Barrington Levy,
the Sonics,
Tommy Roe,
The Stooges,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Steve Hackett,
The Dirtbombs,
Amazonics,
Mr. Review,
Swans,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.