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 Antigua 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Slick Rick,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Matthew Bourne,
Mission of Burma,
Black Flag,
The Cramps,
Mr. Review,
Peter and Kerry,
Eve St. Jones,
Althea and Donna,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boredoms,
Andrew Hill,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Byrd,
New Order,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Khruangbin,
Bronski Beat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Make Up,
Panda Bear,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Japan,
Tommy Roe,
Sex Pistols,
Shoche,
Fluxion,
Rapeman,
JFA,
FM Einheit,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
Absolute Body Control,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camberwell Now,
Fad Gadget,
Bill Wells,
Nas,
Circle Jerks,
Drexciya,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Magazine,
Barry Ungar,
Don Cherry,
Scott Walker,
Section 25,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pere Ubu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
kango's stein massive,
Neil Young,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Cymande,
The Seeds,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.