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 Guatemala and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barrington Levy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Cal Tjader,
Bluetip,
Byron Stingily,
Yellowson,
Bobby Sherman,
The Motions,
Swell Maps,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gap Band,
Hashim,
Rosa Yemen,
The Walker Brothers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Delta 5,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Smiths,
Peter and Kerry,
Bob Dylan,
The Durutti Column,
Radio Birdman,
Ultravox,
Pantaleimon,
Freddie Wadling,
Laurel Aitken,
Sandy B,
Eric Dolphy,
Aural Exciters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Das Ding,
Tubeway Army,
LL Cool J,
Ultra Naté,
Arcadia,
The Gories,
Malaria!,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sister Nancy,
Anakelly,
The Busters,
Reagan Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Zapp,
Ituana,
Shuggie Otis,
Minor Threat,
Drexciya,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
K-Klass,
The Real Kids,
Little Man,
Patti Smith,
Juan Atkins,
Japan,
The Moody Blues,
Slick Rick,
Procol Harum,
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.