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 Grenada and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Supertramp to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Marshall Jefferson,
Freddie Wadling,
Skriet,
Popol Vuh,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Motorama,
Ohio Players,
Vainqueur,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Slave,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terry Callier,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Fortunes,
Country Teasers,
Brand Nubian,
The Mojo Men,
Flipper,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mars,
Eric Dolphy,
Whodini,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Visage,
Sonny Sharrock,
Leonard Cohen,
the Soft Cell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultravox,
Vladislav Delay,
Rapeman,
Bill Near,
Moss Icon,
The Mummies,
June of 44,
Excepter,
Dark Day,
Heaven 17,
Boredoms,
Ten City,
Moby Grape,
The Human League,
Yazoo,
Unwound,
Bush Tetras,
Monolake,
Aswad,
Saccharine Trust,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Standells,
Bobby Womack,
Soft Machine,
Deakin,
The Monks,
Idris Muhammad,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.