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 Djibouti and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Average White Band to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lyres,
Ituana,
The Alarm Clocks,
World's Most,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
Ultra Naté,
Swans,
Harmonia,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Underground Resistance,
Second Layer,
Cybotron,
the Association,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Leonard Cohen,
The Associates,
Eli Mardock,
The Raincoats,
Maurizio,
The Knickerbockers,
Quadrant,
Swell Maps,
CMW,
Roxy Music,
Shuggie Otis,
Pussy Galore,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Flag,
Pantytec,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Busters,
Peter and Kerry,
Roger Hodgson,
Magazine,
The Searchers,
Mr. Review,
The Techniques,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Lydon,
Amazonics,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rosa Yemen,
Wire,
Deadbeat,
The Grass Roots,
Bang On A Can,
Henry Cow,
John Cale,
Rites of Spring,
Parry Music,
Sarah Menescal,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.