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 Malawi and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Desert Stars to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Peter & Gordon,
Rekid,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Womack,
Bill Near,
Skaos,
The Kinks,
Suburban Knight,
Laurel Aitken,
K-Klass,
Cecil Taylor,
The Associates,
Judy Mowatt,
Index,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cowsills,
Radio Birdman,
Interpol,
The Last Poets,
Pantytec,
Piero Umiliani,
Desert Stars,
Symarip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Archie Shepp,
Severed Heads,
The Techniques,
Half Japanese,
Pierre Henry,
Freddie Wadling,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scion,
Little Man,
The Litter,
Max Romeo,
Moss Icon,
The Vogues,
Dennis Brown,
Sarah Menescal,
UT,
Gang Starr,
Cybotron,
Roxy Music,
The Durutti Column,
Zero Boys,
The Saints,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Altered Images,
Juan Atkins,
Television,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.