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 Jamaica and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The Star Department,
Sight & Sound,
John Holt,
UT,
The Motions,
Suburban Knight,
Pharoah Sanders,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
The Durutti Column,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Silicon Teens,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fortunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Names,
The Slits,
Camouflage,
Charles Mingus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cameo,
Young Marble Giants,
Wally Richardson,
The Dead C,
Circle Jerks,
Flash Fearless,
Darondo,
Morten Harket,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oneida,
Newcleus,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Age Steppers,
Mark Hollis,
Matthew Halsall,
Cheater Slicks,
Sparks,
Black Bananas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mad Mike,
Lou Reed,
the Normal,
Spoonie Gee,
Jawbox,
Au Pairs,
Erykah Badu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
PIL,
Crime,
World's Most,
Basic Channel,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Smoke,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.