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 Jamaica and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Funkadelic to the electroclash 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Gap Band,
The Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Peter & Gordon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Max Romeo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scratch Acid,
Public Enemy,
Judy Mowatt,
Index,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Smiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
T. Rex,
Marc Almond,
Motorama,
The Offenders,
ABBA,
This Heat,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
Nation of Ulysses,
Idris Muhammad,
Royal Trux,
Suicide,
Gang Green,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scion,
Barbara Tucker,
Hoover,
Throbbing Gristle,
Y Pants,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dead C,
Yazoo,
the Bar-Kays,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kevin Saunderson,
Goldenarms,
Alison Limerick,
Main Source,
New York Dolls,
Michelle Simonal,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ludus,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Wyatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Massinfluence,
Kerri Chandler,
Maurizio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Babytalk,
Surgeon,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.