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 Bhutan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Roy Ayers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Quantec,
Ten City,
The Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
the Bar-Kays,
Johnny Clarke,
Drexciya,
Brothers Johnson,
cv313,
Lalann,
New York Dolls,
Siglo XX,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dennis Brown,
The Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mantronix,
Laurel Aitken,
Outsiders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Graham Central Station,
X-Ray Spex,
Nico,
X-101,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scion,
Judy Mowatt,
The Angels of Light,
The Trojans,
kango's stein massive,
The Five Americans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slits,
The Moleskins,
Television Personalities,
Cluster,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ponytail,
David Bowie,
The Vogues,
Tears for Fears,
Steve Hackett,
Josef K,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soul II Soul,
Sällskapet,
F. McDonald,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cal Tjader,
Panda Bear,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
Vainqueur,
Aswad,
Brand Nubian,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.