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 Nigeria and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar 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 Carl Craig to the jazz 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Unwound,
Goldenarms,
Dark Day,
Barbara Tucker,
MC5,
Dorothy Ashby,
CMW,
Intrusion,
Ice-T,
The Offenders,
Sun City Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
The Leaves,
Albert Ayler,
Duran Duran,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The New Christs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sun Ra,
Quadrant,
The Pretty Things,
Don Cherry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marvin Gaye,
The United States of America,
Fatback Band,
Newcleus,
Laurel Aitken,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sound,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Supertramp,
La Düsseldorf,
Stetsasonic,
Minutemen,
Aural Exciters,
Jawbox,
Hoover,
Al Stewart,
The Remains,
The Residents,
Bobby Sherman,
Toni Rubio,
Sex Pistols,
Schoolly D,
The Blues Magoos,
Lower 48,
Inner City,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television,
Brass Construction,
Andrew Hill,
R.M.O.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bauhaus,
Excepter,
The Cowsills,
Mo-Dettes,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.