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 Chad and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb 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 Roy Ayers to the rap 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Saccharine Trust,
a-ha,
Supertramp,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thee Headcoats,
MC5,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Leonard Cohen,
The Vogues,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Five Americans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Al Stewart,
Skaos,
Khruangbin,
Junior Murvin,
Yaz,
Pole,
The Cramps,
Joey Negro,
Outsiders,
Lalann,
Joe Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lalo Schifrin,
Danielle Patucci,
New Age Steppers,
Dave Gahan,
Black Flag,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
JFA,
Throbbing Gristle,
June of 44,
The New Christs,
The Star Department,
Audionom,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Alarm Clocks,
Qualms,
The Modern Lovers,
Arthur Verocai,
Sixth Finger,
Massinfluence,
Scientists,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bauhaus,
The Fortunes,
Suicide,
Sister Nancy,
Motorama,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jawbox,
Ossler,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amon Düül II,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flash Fearless,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.