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 Suriname 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Detroit Cobras to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
AZ,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wolf Eyes,
Infiniti,
Scott Walker,
Radio Birdman,
Cameo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bronski Beat,
Banda Bassotti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Scrapy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New Age Steppers,
New York Dolls,
Vainqueur,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stetsasonic,
Johnny Clarke,
Tomorrow,
Hardrive,
Bizarre Inc.,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Swans,
Au Pairs,
Hasil Adkins,
Dennis Brown,
Lyres,
CMW,
Boz Scaggs,
Massinfluence,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Smog,
Model 500,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stiv Bators,
The Star Department,
Ponytail,
Black Pus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Wasted Youth,
Mr. Review,
Camberwell Now,
The Raincoats,
Robert Wyatt,
Josef K,
Underground Resistance,
Yusef Lateef,
Rod Modell,
Danielle Patucci,
Bad Manners,
The Wake,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Happenings,
Icehouse,
Scratch Acid,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.