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 Maldives and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Albert Ayler to the crunk 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Charles Mingus,
Toni Rubio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gichy Dan,
Andrew Hill,
The J.B.'s,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Piero Umiliani,
Godley & Creme,
Cecil Taylor,
The Black Dice,
The Music Machine,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joey Negro,
Robert Görl,
The Buckinghams,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Cell,
Mo-Dettes,
The Star Department,
June Days,
Essential Logic,
Niagra,
Severed Heads,
Kurtis Blow,
Mantronix,
Ultravox,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Reagan Youth,
David McCallum,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Prince Buster,
Mark Hollis,
The Velvet Underground,
Don Cherry,
Khruangbin,
Frankie Knuckles,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Seeds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Unrelated Segments,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Amon Düül,
The Red Krayola,
Marvin Gaye,
Visage,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Donald Byrd,
The Cramps,
Gang Green,
Can,
Nico,
The Trojans,
The Beau Brummels,
Alice Coltrane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Lydon,
Amon Düül II,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.