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 Namibia and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bad Manners to the dance 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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Seeds,
Angry Samoans,
The Gladiators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Brothers Johnson,
Lou Christie,
The Martian,
Desert Stars,
Black Pus,
The Mojo Men,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bill Wells,
The Pretty Things,
Fat Boys,
Sandy B,
Roy Ayers,
Deepchord,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
E-Dancer,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Das Ding,
Schoolly D,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MDC,
The Offenders,
The Fire Engines,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Normal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Judy Mowatt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Banda Bassotti,
Marine Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tres Demented,
The Victims,
Fatback Band,
Wings,
Magazine,
The Human League,
Ice-T,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cosmic Jokers,
10cc,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Clarke,
ABC,
Darondo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Danielle Patucci,
Mantronix,
Minor Threat,
The Durutti Column,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Loose Ends,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Hood,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.