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 Seychelles and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Neon Judgement to the grime 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
X-102,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shuggie Otis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kurtis Blow,
The Last Poets,
The Stooges,
Adolescents,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Moleskins,
Cameo,
Silicon Teens,
The Move,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Babytalk,
cv313,
The Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Q65,
Faust,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pussy Galore,
A Certain Ratio,
The Music Machine,
Man Parrish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
Tomorrow,
Freddie Wadling,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Q and Not U,
Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Matthew Halsall,
Grandmaster Flash,
Average White Band,
H. Thieme,
The Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Womack,
Echospace,
Eric Dolphy,
Mad Mike,
Ornette Coleman,
Joey Negro,
Piero Umiliani,
John Coltrane,
John Holt,
The Slits,
The Smiths,
L. Decosne,
Ultra Naté,
kango's stein massive,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.