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 Ivory Coast and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the rap 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cheater Slicks,
The Angels of Light,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-Ray Spex,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Silicon Teens,
Rites of Spring,
Deakin,
The Walker Brothers,
Scan 7,
Lower 48,
Visage,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Das Ding,
Clear Light,
The Busters,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Slave,
Alphaville,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
MDC,
Jandek,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Kenny Larkin,
A Certain Ratio,
The Toasters,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Birthday Party,
Cluster,
The Slackers,
Pantytec,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
Rapeman,
Black Bananas,
the Association,
Blossom Toes,
Pere Ubu,
the Soft Cell,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers,
Don Cherry,
Curtis Mayfield,
Al Stewart,
The New Christs,
Pagans,
Matthew Bourne,
Camberwell Now,
Average White Band,
Theoretical Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Electric Prunes,
Aaron Thompson,
Magazine,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.