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 Shanghai.
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 Delhi and Copenhagen.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 New Age Steppers to the electroclash 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Arthur Verocai,
The Last Poets,
The Index,
48th St. Collective,
Flipper,
Parry Music,
Rapeman,
Fat Boys,
Gong,
Stereo Dub,
H. Thieme,
Zapp,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
Blossom Toes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sparks,
Ornette Coleman,
Ken Boothe,
Warren Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Associates,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hot Snakes,
Alison Limerick,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scratch Acid,
Eric Dolphy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy Collins,
Neil Young,
Lightning Bolt,
The Remains,
MDC,
The Move,
The Sisters of Mercy,
This Heat,
Unwound,
Inner City,
Spoonie Gee,
Robert Görl,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nik Kershaw,
Yellowson,
Main Source,
Television Personalities,
Shuggie Otis,
Neu!,
E-Dancer,
Visage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
China Crisis,
Depeche Mode,
The Buckinghams,
the Bar-Kays,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Young Rascals,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.