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 India and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 B and Rakim to the grime 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pole,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fire Engines,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Anthony Braxton,
The Residents,
The Sound,
Mission of Burma,
Babytalk,
Agent Orange,
Pharoah Sanders,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy Collins,
Procol Harum,
Interpol,
Gang of Four,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Golliwogs,
Brick,
John Coltrane,
Marc Almond,
PIL,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cowsills,
Jerry's Kids,
Brand Nubian,
Slave,
Pulsallama,
Second Layer,
Arab on Radar,
The Martian,
The Wake,
Amazonics,
Juan Atkins,
Mad Mike,
The Misunderstood,
Marvin Gaye,
Deepchord,
Underground Resistance,
Charles Mingus,
The Last Poets,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Prince Buster,
This Heat,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kayak,
Matthew Halsall,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Scan 7,
The Modern Lovers,
Crime,
Wasted Youth,
The New Christs,
Ohio Players,
Barrington Levy,
Michelle Simonal,
The Gories,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.