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 Comoros and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Doobie Brothers to the grunge 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Rites of Spring,
Roxy Music,
Lalann,
Wire,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Masters at Work,
Eden Ahbez,
Maurizio,
Section 25,
Colin Newman,
Television Personalities,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yellowson,
Harry Pussy,
The Remains,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Andrew Hill,
Subhumans,
Alice Coltrane,
CMW,
Mr. Review,
Ralphi Rosario,
Charles Mingus,
Mission of Burma,
Mandrill,
Arthur Verocai,
Dave Gahan,
Lightning Bolt,
EPMD,
Symarip,
The Busters,
Little Man,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radio Birdman,
Ornette Coleman,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jawbox,
Harpers Bizarre,
T. Rex,
Q and Not U,
Vladislav Delay,
10cc,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Liliput,
Mary Jane Girls,
Drexciya,
Archie Shepp,
Nico,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Smog,
Wally Richardson,
Swans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Amon Düül II,
Soft Cell,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.