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 Colombia and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro 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 Royal Trux to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 American Breed,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonny Sharrock,
James White and The Blacks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warsaw,
Andrew Hill,
Excepter,
Negative Approach,
Intrusion,
Grauzone,
The Divine Comedy,
Dawn Penn,
Amazonics,
Gichy Dan,
Reagan Youth,
The Durutti Column,
Gang Starr,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Popol Vuh,
Jesper Dahlback,
Althea and Donna,
Easy Going,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Shoche,
KRS-One,
Crispy Ambulance,
OOIOO,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ohio Players,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Eve St. Jones,
Tubeway Army,
Man Eating Sloth,
Faust,
Pagans,
Model 500,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Saccharine Trust,
Joey Negro,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül II,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ponytail,
Cameo,
Nick Fraelich,
The Walker Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
Basic Channel,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Josef K,
Soulsonic Force,
Scan 7,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.