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 Nigeria and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 the Bar-Kays to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Sister Nancy,
The Remains,
Avey Tare,
Rites of Spring,
10cc,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rakim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
The Mojo Men,
Massinfluence,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
kango's stein massive,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minny Pops,
Soulsonic Force,
The Red Krayola,
EPMD,
Stetsasonic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cluster,
Nils Olav,
The Slackers,
The Five Americans,
Mandrill,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
Rufus Thomas,
Eurythmics,
James White and The Blacks,
X-102,
Hardrive,
The Dirtbombs,
Fear,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joe Finger,
Das Ding,
Urselle,
Theoretical Girls,
Clear Light,
Ornette Coleman,
Parry Music,
Don Cherry,
Jeff Mills,
Yaz,
Masters at Work,
Minnie Riperton,
Anthony Braxton,
Radio Birdman,
Pantaleimon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
CMW,
Bobby Hutcherson,
David Bowie,
Drive Like Jehu,
Duran Duran,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Offenders,
Make Up,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica.
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.