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 Ivory Coast and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Thee Headcoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Henry Cow,
The Smiths,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cymande,
Suicide,
Judy Mowatt,
Bronski Beat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Rapeman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
Sixth Finger,
Crime,
Barry Ungar,
Terry Callier,
Cluster,
June Days,
The Gun Club,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Martian,
Soft Cell,
Dawn Penn,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultimate Spinach,
K-Klass,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Organ,
Y Pants,
Lakeside,
The Moody Blues,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brass Construction,
Althea and Donna,
Sister Nancy,
New Age Steppers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gang Green,
The Fortunes,
Eurythmics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun Ra,
Spoonie Gee,
F. McDonald,
Juan Atkins,
Jacob Miller,
R.M.O.,
The United States of America,
X-102,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.