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 Brazil and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Rakim 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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Index,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Last Poets,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
ABBA,
Joey Negro,
The Mojo Men,
The Offenders,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Masters at Work,
Unwound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Michelle Simonal,
Moby Grape,
Youth Brigade,
Peter and Kerry,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Janne Schatter,
Simply Red,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bush Tetras,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cecil Taylor,
Cheater Slicks,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Wake,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Brand Nubian,
Dawn Penn,
Interpol,
Sex Pistols,
Ossler,
The Saints,
Roxy Music,
Juan Atkins,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric B and Rakim,
In Retrospect,
The Neon Judgement,
Motorama,
Arab on Radar,
New Age Steppers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sight & Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Happenings,
Bootsy Collins,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.