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 Vietnam and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Rod Modell to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Absolute Body Control,
These Immortal Souls,
Swell Maps,
Ituana,
Yaz,
Howard Jones,
The Selecter,
B.T. Express,
Accadde A,
Big Daddy Kane,
Henry Cow,
Unwound,
Thee Headcoats,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scott Walker,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Pretty Things,
Jeff Mills,
Cameo,
Lightning Bolt,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Banda Bassotti,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Axelrod,
Eurythmics,
The Kinks,
Scrapy,
Colin Newman,
Morten Harket,
Pharoah Sanders,
June Days,
Babytalk,
The Techniques,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Buckinghams,
The Fuzztones,
Donald Byrd,
Davy DMX,
JFA,
Dave Gahan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Bananas,
Los Fastidios,
Lower 48,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Television,
The Red Krayola,
T.S.O.L.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers,
Ossler,
Black Sheep,
Ice-T,
Mad Mike,
Dawn Penn,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.