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 Dominica and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grunge 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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Brass Construction,
The Blues Magoos,
China Crisis,
Don Cherry,
La Düsseldorf,
June of 44,
K-Klass,
a-ha,
Eddi Front,
Pussy Galore,
Eurythmics,
Gichy Dan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lucky Dragons,
New Age Steppers,
T. Rex,
Vainqueur,
Ludus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Susan Cadogan,
Godley & Creme,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
DJ Style,
Reuben Wilson,
Brick,
Hasil Adkins,
The Litter,
Jacob Miller,
Barbara Tucker,
Deakin,
Drexciya,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
Depeche Mode,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Make Up,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
The Durutti Column,
Can,
Donald Byrd,
Man Parrish,
Ituana,
Rites of Spring,
Toni Rubio,
Rufus Thomas,
Public Enemy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sandy B,
OOIOO,
Con Funk Shun,
Circle Jerks,
Flash Fearless,
Infiniti,
Pulsallama,
Pylon,
Wire,
Joyce Sims,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.