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 Finland and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Zapp to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Ten City,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Sheep,
Joey Negro,
Brand Nubian,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DJ Sneak,
Section 25,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deepchord,
Warsaw,
Buzzcocks,
X-101,
Dawn Penn,
Radiopuhelimet,
Panda Bear,
Groovy Waters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cymande,
Pole,
Alphaville,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sex Pistols,
Peter & Gordon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Parry Music,
Silicon Teens,
Symarip,
Fela Kuti,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Human League,
New Order,
Brass Construction,
Alton Ellis,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric Dolphy,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Osbourne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Byrd,
Joy Division,
Television Personalities,
The Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Raincoats,
Whodini,
Sun City Girls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Electric Prunes,
Morten Harket,
Fad Gadget,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.