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 Sudan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Music Machine to the disco 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
The Martian,
Marine Girls,
Parry Music,
Buzzcocks,
Yazoo,
The Doors,
Accadde A,
Sun Ra,
Metal Thangz,
Lyres,
Maurizio,
Terry Callier,
Rufus Thomas,
MC5,
Qualms,
The Young Rascals,
Brothers Johnson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Donny Hathaway,
Unrelated Segments,
Man Parrish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cure,
The Knickerbockers,
F. McDonald,
Ornette Coleman,
LL Cool J,
Chrome,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dark Day,
Al Stewart,
Section 25,
Nas,
Robert Görl,
Intrusion,
The Red Krayola,
Alphaville,
Mad Mike,
Ralphi Rosario,
Andrew Hill,
cv313,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warren Ellis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Max Romeo,
Gichy Dan,
Barbara Tucker,
Vladislav Delay,
Aural Exciters,
Flash Fearless,
The Beau Brummels,
Susan Cadogan,
The Techniques,
Niagra,
Los Fastidios,
John Foxx,
Althea and Donna,
B.T. Express,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.