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 Afghanistan and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Robert Palmer 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Don Cherry,
Delta 5,
Brass Construction,
Goldenarms,
The Modern Lovers,
Flash Fearless,
The Stooges,
Judy Mowatt,
Terry Callier,
Carl Craig,
The Busters,
The Pop Group,
Barry Ungar,
The Sound,
Agent Orange,
Sound Behaviour,
Zapp,
D'Angelo,
Alphaville,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Masters at Work,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed,
Max Romeo,
X-102,
Negative Approach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Icehouse,
Pere Ubu,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Searchers,
Quando Quango,
David McCallum,
Harpers Bizarre,
June Days,
Todd Terry,
Chris Corsano,
Nils Olav,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Sheep,
Stereo Dub,
Audionom,
MDC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Remains,
Visage,
The Happenings,
Rotary Connection,
Jeff Mills,
The Moleskins,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
David Bowie,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.