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 Andorra and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 linndrum 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 Junior Murvin to the jazz 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
X-101,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric Copeland,
Pulsallama,
The Cowsills,
Donny Hathaway,
B.T. Express,
Visage,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
Adolescents,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pylon,
L. Decosne,
Funky Four + One,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Jawbox,
Zapp,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marvin Gaye,
F. McDonald,
Skriet,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
Morten Harket,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Reed,
Amon Düül II,
Iggy Pop,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deakin,
Pierre Henry,
Zero Boys,
Todd Terry,
Bang On A Can,
Erykah Badu,
Smog,
Trumans Water,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Parrish,
Radio Birdman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Grandmaster Flash,
AZ,
The Last Poets,
Suburban Knight,
Andrew Hill,
Magazine,
Kerri Chandler,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
Ice-T,
MDC,
The Fire Engines,
the Slits,
The Vogues,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.