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 Lithuania and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 LL Cool J 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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
the Sonics,
Donny Hathaway,
Theoretical Girls,
Andrew Hill,
The Divine Comedy,
The Vogues,
Ken Boothe,
Rekid,
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Sherman,
June Days,
Joy Division,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
Wally Richardson,
Cheater Slicks,
Model 500,
Roger Hodgson,
Erykah Badu,
The Last Poets,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
Brothers Johnson,
Lungfish,
Fad Gadget,
Derrick May,
Barclay James Harvest,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Spoonie Gee,
Das Ding,
Mary Jane Girls,
Funkadelic,
Nas,
B.T. Express,
Sam Rivers,
Skaos,
Japan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amazonics,
The Durutti Column,
Kurtis Blow,
F. McDonald,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tears for Fears,
Pulsallama,
Fugazi,
Nico,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scott Walker,
Pylon,
Lyres,
The Knickerbockers,
Bush Tetras,
Goldenarms,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Michelle Simonal,
Ossler,
Bill Wells,
X-101,
Black Flag,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.