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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Sällskapet,
Donny Hathaway,
Joey Negro,
Fugazi,
Scan 7,
Ponytail,
Los Fastidios,
D'Angelo,
L. Decosne,
Nirvana,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
The Knickerbockers,
Wasted Youth,
Rapeman,
Porter Ricks,
E-Dancer,
Idris Muhammad,
Deepchord,
Hashim,
Nico,
Intrusion,
Dark Day,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Music Machine,
Little Man,
Stereo Dub,
Peter and Kerry,
Derrick Morgan,
Amon Düül II,
The J.B.'s,
Con Funk Shun,
Yellowson,
Jandek,
Moss Icon,
Todd Terry,
The Cramps,
Carl Craig,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Kinks,
Wings,
Symarip,
Anthony Braxton,
Buzzcocks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fluxion,
Sonic Youth,
the Sonics,
The Dave Clark Five,
Judy Mowatt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dawn Penn,
Nils Olav,
Flash Fearless,
Newcleus,
Rhythm & Sound,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.