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 Nepal and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Doobie Brothers to the crunk 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
U.S. Maple,
The Last Poets,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sandy B,
The Cowsills,
Dawn Penn,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Agent Orange,
Tears for Fears,
Parry Music,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Alton Ellis,
Lou Christie,
Byron Stingily,
The Walker Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slick Rick,
Ken Boothe,
Banda Bassotti,
Cluster,
Gabor Szabo,
Brothers Johnson,
Unrelated Segments,
Alison Limerick,
New Order,
Theoretical Girls,
Sixth Finger,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Swans,
Bill Wells,
Los Fastidios,
Michelle Simonal,
New York Dolls,
The Martian,
The Gap Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Skatalites,
John Holt,
the Bar-Kays,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tim Buckley,
Excepter,
Groovy Waters,
the Association,
Au Pairs,
Colin Newman,
Gang Green,
Black Moon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stetsasonic,
The Evens,
The Mojo Men,
Nick Fraelich,
Loose Ends,
Blossom Toes,
Arthur Verocai,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Icehouse,
Erykah Badu,
X-102,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.