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 Chile and from Stockholm.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar 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 cv313 to the crunk 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Barrington Levy,
Slave,
Pussy Galore,
Japan,
Idris Muhammad,
The Associates,
Scrapy,
The Durutti Column,
Cluster,
Mandrill,
The Move,
A Certain Ratio,
JFA,
Dual Sessions,
Danielle Patucci,
Trumans Water,
Zero Boys,
The Skatalites,
Infiniti,
John Cale,
Erykah Badu,
The Toasters,
Essential Logic,
Pulsallama,
Yazoo,
The Martian,
Ralphi Rosario,
The American Breed,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Lynne,
Jacques Brel,
Kenny Larkin,
The Blackbyrds,
The Neon Judgement,
Mo-Dettes,
The Doors,
The Last Poets,
The Cramps,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Maurizio,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harmonia,
Cymande,
Qualms,
Scientists,
Marvin Gaye,
Thee Headcoats,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sparks,
Toni Rubio,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
The Monks,
The Names,
Rod Modell,
Ohio Players,
The Standells,
One Last Wish,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.