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 Turkmenistan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Slick Rick to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Unwound,
Animal Collective,
Ohio Players,
Little Man,
Rapeman,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare,
the Swans,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Blues Magoos,
Niagra,
Bill Wells,
Todd Terry,
Second Layer,
The Tremeloes,
Sex Pistols,
Bush Tetras,
Letta Mbulu,
The Knickerbockers,
Lakeside,
The Neon Judgement,
Talk Talk,
Wasted Youth,
Piero Umiliani,
Bauhaus,
Eric Copeland,
Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
The Slits,
the Germs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Neu!,
Ken Boothe,
D'Angelo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Trojans,
Aaron Thompson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
cv313,
Jeru the Damaja,
Radio Birdman,
Derrick May,
Monolake,
Aural Exciters,
Donny Hathaway,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fear,
L. Decosne,
Ituana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Can,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Index,
Grey Daturas,
The Human League,
David Axelrod,
The Seeds,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.