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 Cyprus and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 London and Tehran.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tubeway Army to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Marmalade,
Erasure,
Blancmange,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fortunes,
The Mummies,
Outsiders,
Terry Callier,
Alton Ellis,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rekid,
The Evens,
The Move,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Au Pairs,
Toni Rubio,
Neil Young,
Laurel Aitken,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ultravox,
X-102,
The Last Poets,
Shuggie Otis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Cale,
Pagans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cluster,
Mantronix,
The Fugs,
Jawbox,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Whodini,
The Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
Zapp,
Ronnie Foster,
The Motions,
Popol Vuh,
Fad Gadget,
the Soft Cell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Supertramp,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
Pole,
Wasted Youth,
Josef K,
Television Personalities,
Make Up,
Trumans Water,
Half Japanese,
CMW,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.