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 Korea North 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Oblivians,
Sonny Sharrock,
Masters at Work,
Wasted Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cramps,
Organ,
Brass Construction,
Quadrant,
Mad Mike,
Soul II Soul,
The Dirtbombs,
Rekid,
The Fuzztones,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pulsallama,
Connie Case,
Sister Nancy,
Agent Orange,
Susan Cadogan,
Main Source,
Rod Modell,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
The Gladiators,
Reuben Wilson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
Eddi Front,
The Smiths,
Shoche,
Ronan,
Accadde A,
MDC,
Maurizio,
Don Cherry,
Mantronix,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Amon Düül,
The Mummies,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Beau Brummels,
The Saints,
the Swans,
Panda Bear,
Arab on Radar,
The Human League,
Nas,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Walker Brothers,
Pagans,
Drexciya,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.