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 Nicaragua and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manchester.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marvin Gaye to the grunge 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bill Wells,
Gregory Isaacs,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
Boredoms,
Terry Callier,
Iggy Pop,
Hardrive,
X-Ray Spex,
Albert Ayler,
Smog,
The Wake,
The Happenings,
June of 44,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rosa Yemen,
Warren Ellis,
The Standells,
Scrapy,
The Saints,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Althea and Donna,
Warsaw,
Pole,
Glambeats Corp.,
Y Pants,
Yusef Lateef,
Marc Almond,
The United States of America,
Morten Harket,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Donny Hathaway,
Audionom,
Popol Vuh,
Avey Tare,
Pantytec,
The Fuzztones,
Shuggie Otis,
The Divine Comedy,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scratch Acid,
The Cramps,
The Count Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jeff Mills,
Cameo,
Roger Hodgson,
Nick Fraelich,
Letta Mbulu,
kango's stein massive,
Sight & Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.