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 Yemen and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin 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 John Lydon to the punk 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Symarip,
Ten City,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scott Walker,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dirtbombs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Procol Harum,
Sugar Minott,
Brick,
Crooked Eye,
Radio Birdman,
Jacques Brel,
Alton Ellis,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Parry Music,
Minutemen,
D'Angelo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Neil Young,
Faraquet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sam Rivers,
Amon Düül,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Magazine,
Groovy Waters,
Bush Tetras,
Mission of Burma,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mojo Men,
The Toasters,
Underground Resistance,
Todd Terry,
The Dead C,
Pussy Galore,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobby Sherman,
The Remains,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Index,
Bootsy Collins,
the Slits,
Das Ding,
Au Pairs,
Trumans Water,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lucky Dragons,
The Angels of Light,
Surgeon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Johnny Clarke,
Subhumans,
The J.B.'s,
Minnie Riperton,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.