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 Cuba and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Quantec to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Association,
KRS-One,
Infiniti,
Amon Düül II,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Procol Harum,
The New Christs,
The Durutti Column,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roxy Music,
Quadrant,
This Heat,
The Human League,
Connie Case,
Nick Fraelich,
Davy DMX,
Slave,
Arthur Verocai,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Model 500,
Isaac Hayes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Reagan Youth,
Bang On A Can,
Cheater Slicks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cymande,
Motorama,
Brothers Johnson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Vainqueur,
H. Thieme,
Trumans Water,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Funky Four + One,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Sheep,
The Dead C,
Bluetip,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABBA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Con Funk Shun,
Morten Harket,
Crime,
Sound Behaviour,
Sugar Minott,
In Retrospect,
Robert Hood,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.