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 Bangladesh and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Modern Lovers,
Howard Jones,
Mantronix,
Sandy B,
Darondo,
Motorama,
Warsaw,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Althea and Donna,
Scan 7,
Cymande,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alton Ellis,
Maurizio,
Kenny Larkin,
FM Einheit,
The Kinks,
Reagan Youth,
Scientists,
Jacob Miller,
Niagra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Monolake,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Warren Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Gichy Dan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Oneida,
June Days,
Harry Pussy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharoah Sanders,
10cc,
The Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Charles Mingus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sixth Finger,
Massinfluence,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Roxy Music,
Rod Modell,
Jeff Mills,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Machine,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Dawn Penn,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Buckinghams,
The Pretty Things,
The Grass Roots,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.