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 Swaziland and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Fortunes to the dance 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Con Funk Shun,
The Seeds,
Chrome,
Flash Fearless,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Brick,
Agent Orange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Angels of Light,
Second Layer,
Severed Heads,
FM Einheit,
Organ,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Donny Hathaway,
The Victims,
Magma,
Pole,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lalo Schifrin,
Scratch Acid,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
The Pretty Things,
Audionom,
Blake Baxter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ludus,
The Gladiators,
Ronnie Foster,
The Happenings,
The Electric Prunes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Skriet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sound Behaviour,
Gong,
Interpol,
kango's stein massive,
The Trojans,
Archie Shepp,
The Gories,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Modern Lovers,
Vladislav Delay,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
In Retrospect,
Nick Fraelich,
Toni Rubio,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harry Pussy,
Shoche,
Wings,
The Dirtbombs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.