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 Solomon Islands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Mummies to the grunge 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Electric Prunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ultravox,
cv313,
Wolf Eyes,
The Techniques,
Fela Kuti,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
Quadrant,
The Monks,
Country Teasers,
Max Romeo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobby Womack,
Alton Ellis,
Amon Düül II,
8 Eyed Spy,
AZ,
Boogie Down Productions,
June Days,
Banda Bassotti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mummies,
Brothers Johnson,
John Coltrane,
Magazine,
The Evens,
Rosa Yemen,
Erasure,
Chrome,
Archie Shepp,
Sonny Sharrock,
Graham Central Station,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Music Machine,
Henry Cow,
China Crisis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Monks,
Thompson Twins,
The Smoke,
Whodini,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Popol Vuh,
Siglo XX,
Panda Bear,
Scientists,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gun Club,
Cameo,
Buzzcocks,
Delta 5,
Supertramp,
Bush Tetras,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Colin Newman,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.