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 Qatar and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
The Move,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Donald Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
The Fire Engines,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Bar-Kays,
Eric B and Rakim,
Juan Atkins,
Goldenarms,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Bizarre Inc.,
Monks,
Organ,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
Johnny Clarke,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Robert Wyatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Japan,
Althea and Donna,
The Remains,
Ultravox,
The Fortunes,
R.M.O.,
Half Japanese,
The Last Poets,
Yaz,
The Black Dice,
Marmalade,
Sight & Sound,
New York Dolls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Theoretical Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
Robert Görl,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Swell Maps,
Drexciya,
Pere Ubu,
Kurtis Blow,
Eurythmics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Modern Lovers,
Ornette Coleman,
The Happenings,
In Retrospect,
The Fugs,
Swans,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gap Band,
Charles Mingus,
Brass Construction,
Shuggie Otis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.