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 Bhutan and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dorothy Ashby to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Organ,
The Music Machine,
Moby Grape,
The American Breed,
The Skatalites,
The Human League,
Yusef Lateef,
Siglo XX,
Pussy Galore,
Harry Pussy,
The Gladiators,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The New Christs,
Funkadelic,
Wasted Youth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Pretty Things,
The Slits,
Jandek,
H. Thieme,
R.M.O.,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Animal Collective,
Inner City,
The Kinks,
the Slits,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ultravox,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Model 500,
DJ Style,
The Pop Group,
Unwound,
Josef K,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Quadrant,
Chris Corsano,
Spoonie Gee,
Stiv Bators,
Babytalk,
Connie Case,
Judy Mowatt,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerri Chandler,
Index,
Q65,
John Lydon,
Jacques Brel,
Dorothy Ashby,
Magma,
Gong,
The J.B.'s,
Kevin Saunderson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
CMW,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Bad Manners,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.