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 Barbados and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Davy DMX,
Bauhaus,
Motorama,
Yusef Lateef,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare,
Donny Hathaway,
Japan,
Swell Maps,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Vogues,
Spandau Ballet,
The Gun Club,
Scrapy,
Rotary Connection,
Pylon,
Radio Birdman,
Soul II Soul,
Blake Baxter,
The Move,
The Smiths,
Stereo Dub,
Sun Ra,
Erykah Badu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mark Hollis,
B.T. Express,
The Human League,
Marc Almond,
Lindisfarne,
The Doors,
Unrelated Segments,
Faraquet,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
48th St. Collective,
The Divine Comedy,
Liliput,
Bill Near,
Gong,
Deepchord,
The Associates,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David Axelrod,
Todd Terry,
Morten Harket,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slits,
Camberwell Now,
T.S.O.L.,
Jacques Brel,
Eric B and Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
LL Cool J,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.