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 Niger and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Donald Byrd to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Trumans Water,
Fat Boys,
Rapeman,
Brick,
Pierre Henry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Pus,
Lalann,
Andrew Hill,
Peter and Kerry,
Vladislav Delay,
Dorothy Ashby,
Royal Trux,
Hashim,
Rod Modell,
The Busters,
Wolf Eyes,
June of 44,
Schoolly D,
Danielle Patucci,
Ituana,
X-101,
Reuben Wilson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rosa Yemen,
Adolescents,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bang On A Can,
Gregory Isaacs,
David McCallum,
Sarah Menescal,
Quando Quango,
Sex Pistols,
Yaz,
Kas Product,
Babytalk,
Al Stewart,
Joensuu 1685,
Kerri Chandler,
Jacques Brel,
Wings,
Nico,
Bill Wells,
Cecil Taylor,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Janne Schatter,
Barrington Levy,
Goldenarms,
Deepchord,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
Bobby Byrd,
MC5,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Erasure,
10cc,
Swans,
Connie Case,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.