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 Poland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Eric Copeland to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
X-101,
Dawn Penn,
Nas,
Sam Rivers,
Sex Pistols,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Skatalites,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rekid,
Main Source,
Trumans Water,
Royal Trux,
Gastr Del Sol,
EPMD,
Rufus Thomas,
R.M.O.,
Brick,
The Cowsills,
The Searchers,
Ossler,
The Litter,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Womack,
Heaven 17,
Hot Snakes,
The Motions,
Joyce Sims,
Ken Boothe,
Ten City,
Tubeway Army,
Dead Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Lakeside,
Pantaleimon,
The Count Five,
Matthew Halsall,
Sparks,
Bad Manners,
Lou Reed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Schoolly D,
The Dirtbombs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
U.S. Maple,
Duran Duran,
These Immortal Souls,
Bill Wells,
Average White Band,
cv313,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Newcleus,
E-Dancer,
Procol Harum,
Arab on Radar,
The Gap Band,
The Last Poets,
Angry Samoans,
Los Fastidios,
Joensuu 1685,
Eden Ahbez,
Bauhaus,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.