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 Venezuela and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Section 25 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Khruangbin,
Negative Approach,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Raincoats,
The Evens,
Anthony Braxton,
Maurizio,
Terry Callier,
Blossom Toes,
The Gap Band,
The Sonics,
The American Breed,
Kerrie Biddell,
Electric Prunes,
Pulsallama,
The Modern Lovers,
Inner City,
Al Stewart,
Minutemen,
Little Man,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Can,
Ralphi Rosario,
Prince Buster,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nils Olav,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stiv Bators,
Monolake,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tubeway Army,
The Star Department,
Funky Four + One,
Slave,
Bad Manners,
Public Enemy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Names,
Cal Tjader,
Ornette Coleman,
The Moody Blues,
Shoche,
This Heat,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Echospace,
Neu!,
Faraquet,
Henry Cow,
Mr. Review,
Carl Craig,
Sex Pistols,
Brothers Johnson,
Lower 48,
Bobby Womack,
The Fire Engines,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Radiohead,
The Dave Clark Five,
Juan Atkins,
Arab on Radar,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.