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 Eritrea and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Don Cherry to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Aswad,
The Slackers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Mark Hollis,
Sam Rivers,
X-101,
The Leaves,
Black Sheep,
Nik Kershaw,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crime,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Susan Cadogan,
Suicide,
Alice Coltrane,
Khruangbin,
Unwound,
The Mojo Men,
The Remains,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thompson Twins,
Radio Birdman,
Young Marble Giants,
John Lydon,
The Victims,
The Mummies,
Eric Dolphy,
Television Personalities,
Newcleus,
Connie Case,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Offenders,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bauhaus,
Albert Ayler,
Terrestrial Tones,
Easy Going,
Surgeon,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kenny Larkin,
The Monks,
The Electric Prunes,
Magma,
a-ha,
Nas,
Delta 5,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Babytalk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New Order,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scott Walker,
Brick,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grey Daturas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Judy Mowatt,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.