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 Kiribati and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ornette Coleman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Wells,
Hardrive,
The Five Americans,
The Monochrome Set,
Lalann,
The Offenders,
Harmonia,
Guru Guru,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Skriet,
Fear,
The Toasters,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Angels of Light,
John Cale,
Mr. Review,
T.S.O.L.,
Eddi Front,
The Tremeloes,
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
Davy DMX,
Anakelly,
T. Rex,
Robert Hood,
Kenny Larkin,
Letta Mbulu,
Blancmange,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Brand Nubian,
LL Cool J,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill,
Shuggie Otis,
the Sonics,
The Gladiators,
Rotary Connection,
The Associates,
Zero Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Glenn Branca,
Brick,
Deakin,
Jacob Miller,
U.S. Maple,
Magma,
Colin Newman,
Minnie Riperton,
Los Fastidios,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mark Hollis,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cramps,
The Gories,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lightning Bolt,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.