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 Bhutan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 The Grass Roots 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Marmalade,
K-Klass,
the Bar-Kays,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Hood,
Bootsy Collins,
The Music Machine,
Pierre Henry,
The Martian,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
AZ,
New York Dolls,
Ultra Naté,
Gregory Isaacs,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Teasers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Golliwogs,
10cc,
the Normal,
L. Decosne,
Pantaleimon,
Maleditus Sound,
the Association,
The Smoke,
Newcleus,
Technova,
Urselle,
This Heat,
Masters at Work,
Qualms,
China Crisis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lakeside,
Jandek,
Surgeon,
Mad Mike,
Gong,
Bobby Hutcherson,
June Days,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
Can,
Piero Umiliani,
Mr. Review,
Peter and Kerry,
The Skatalites,
Albert Ayler,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Audionom,
Vainqueur,
the Fania All-Stars,
Inner City,
Aloha Tigers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barclay James Harvest,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.