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 Indonesia and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
The Misunderstood,
Kenny Larkin,
Monks,
Infiniti,
Deadbeat,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Stooges,
The J.B.'s,
New Age Steppers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dead Boys,
Grey Daturas,
The Walker Brothers,
John Lydon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dawn Penn,
The New Christs,
Tres Demented,
Angry Samoans,
Can,
Khruangbin,
Kerri Chandler,
Clear Light,
Delon & Dalcan,
Chris Corsano,
Ultra Naté,
The Selecter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scan 7,
New Order,
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
Laurel Aitken,
Icehouse,
Boz Scaggs,
Todd Rundgren,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Public Enemy,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Wyatt,
Eurythmics,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Moody Blues,
Hasil Adkins,
Arthur Verocai,
Sarah Menescal,
The Divine Comedy,
Joey Negro,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Black Dice,
DJ Sneak,
Connie Case,
Bush Tetras,
Scion,
Symarip,
The Monks,
Ken Boothe,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Quando Quango,
The Victims,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.