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 Luxembourg and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Marshall Jefferson to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
48th St. Collective,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fugs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oneida,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lungfish,
The Durutti Column,
Pulsallama,
The Music Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Byrd,
Cal Tjader,
Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
Grauzone,
Angry Samoans,
Infiniti,
Radiohead,
Inner City,
The Angels of Light,
Black Bananas,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Busters,
Tres Demented,
Curtis Mayfield,
Black Pus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The J.B.'s,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Graham Central Station,
Connie Case,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ohio Players,
Mars,
Tomorrow,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pere Ubu,
U.S. Maple,
Organ,
Skriet,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Hill,
Spoonie Gee,
CMW,
Harry Pussy,
Lalann,
Fugazi,
Franke,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ken Boothe,
Moebius,
The Divine Comedy,
New Order,
Stereo Dub,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fela Kuti,
Derrick Morgan,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.