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 Equatorial Guinea and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron 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 The Monks to the grime 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eli Mardock,
OOIOO,
Barbara Tucker,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
World's Most,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantytec,
Sarah Menescal,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Near,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
Terry Callier,
The Raincoats,
Iggy Pop,
The Names,
Derrick Morgan,
Junior Murvin,
Scratch Acid,
Minnie Riperton,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Steve Hackett,
The Smoke,
Sonny Sharrock,
cv313,
Subhumans,
Todd Terry,
The Offenders,
Absolute Body Control,
Franke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Groovy Waters,
Supertramp,
Radiohead,
Rufus Thomas,
Spandau Ballet,
EPMD,
Jeff Mills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Robert Görl,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Saints,
The Last Poets,
Drive Like Jehu,
June Days,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Womack,
Danielle Patucci,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Y Pants,
Siglo XX,
Black Bananas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minutemen,
Cameo,
Robert Wyatt,
Blossom Toes,
Marine Girls,
Moss Icon,
Tommy Roe,
Dark Day,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.