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 Afghanistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Vladislav Delay to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minnie Riperton,
June Days,
Dead Boys,
Crime,
R.M.O.,
Amazonics,
Erykah Badu,
Clear Light,
Mandrill,
Man Parrish,
Yellowson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cheater Slicks,
The Beau Brummels,
Soft Cell,
Donald Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
the Soft Cell,
Mars,
Los Fastidios,
The Dave Clark Five,
Guru Guru,
Wings,
Soul Sonic Force,
Make Up,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Cramps,
David Bowie,
Stetsasonic,
The Fuzztones,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The American Breed,
Kerri Chandler,
Ossler,
Blossom Toes,
World's Most,
The Remains,
Silicon Teens,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
The Velvet Underground,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soft Machine,
Echospace,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mark Hollis,
Sun Ra,
Eden Ahbez,
Outsiders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Agent Orange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Motorama,
Johnny Clarke,
Loose Ends,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.