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 Cameroon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 New York Dolls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quadrant,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Moebius,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
Eddi Front,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Delon & Dalcan,
Porter Ricks,
Cheater Slicks,
The Slackers,
The Leaves,
Colin Newman,
Dawn Penn,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rapeman,
Nick Fraelich,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mark Hollis,
Second Layer,
The Smoke,
Harmonia,
The Monochrome Set,
Sugar Minott,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pere Ubu,
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Dual Sessions,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cymande,
The Last Poets,
Neu!,
John Coltrane,
Lindisfarne,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxy Music,
the Bar-Kays,
Jacques Brel,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Cale,
The Litter,
Aaron Thompson,
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül II,
Mission of Burma,
Minnie Riperton,
Fugazi,
Jeru the Damaja,
Japan,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.