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 Australia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rekid to the grunge 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
The Golliwogs,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
The Selecter,
The Toasters,
The Fire Engines,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lower 48,
MC5,
Letta Mbulu,
Sandy B,
Organ,
Zero Boys,
Brick,
John Holt,
Mission of Burma,
Dead Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ronnie Foster,
The Divine Comedy,
Amon Düül II,
Ultimate Spinach,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Style,
The Dirtbombs,
Malaria!,
Minny Pops,
Stockholm Monsters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dual Sessions,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Reuben Wilson,
China Crisis,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bob Dylan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Trumans Water,
Thompson Twins,
Terry Callier,
Funkadelic,
Smog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang On A Can,
Dark Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sonic Youth,
Byron Stingily,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.