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 Panama and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 mellotron 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 Man Eating Sloth to the jazz 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Derrick Morgan,
Cybotron,
Rakim,
The Five Americans,
Boz Scaggs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Crime,
Tim Buckley,
The Vogues,
Monks,
Alphaville,
Fat Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
D'Angelo,
The Names,
Joe Finger,
The Durutti Column,
The Cowsills,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stereo Dub,
Moebius,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scrapy,
Young Marble Giants,
Malaria!,
Kurtis Blow,
Vainqueur,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Wake,
F. McDonald,
The Kinks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rufus Thomas,
Gerry Rafferty,
Derrick May,
John Holt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Juan Atkins,
Guru Guru,
Scion,
Gabor Szabo,
Brick,
Underground Resistance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fatback Band,
The Tremeloes,
Soul II Soul,
The Victims,
Ituana,
The Pretty Things,
Albert Ayler,
Quando Quango,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Sonics,
Judy Mowatt,
Charles Mingus,
Isaac Hayes,
Organ,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.