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 Brazil and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Thee Headcoats,
Silicon Teens,
Roxy Music,
Tears for Fears,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fire Engines,
Archie Shepp,
Lower 48,
Kenny Larkin,
Crime,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fluxion,
Youth Brigade,
The Slackers,
Scientists,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Barrington Levy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eli Mardock,
the Human League,
Crash Course in Science,
Sällskapet,
Fugazi,
Niagra,
The Moleskins,
The Names,
Bauhaus,
Moby Grape,
Donny Hathaway,
Royal Trux,
Stiv Bators,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scrapy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brick,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smiths,
Kaleidoscope,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soul Sonic Force,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Yusef Lateef,
Bob Dylan,
Pulsallama,
Kurtis Blow,
Sandy B,
Icehouse,
Circle Jerks,
F. McDonald,
The Cure,
The Divine Comedy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Q65,
Shoche,
The Gladiators,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.