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 Niger and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ohio Players to the dance 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Camberwell Now,
Little Man,
K-Klass,
Gong,
Half Japanese,
Black Pus,
Archie Shepp,
Mo-Dettes,
Ossler,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slackers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Moody Blues,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
EPMD,
Main Source,
Jeru the Damaja,
Girls At Our Best!,
UT,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marmalade,
Crime,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fat Boys,
Parry Music,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
ABC,
Zapp,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tommy Roe,
The Black Dice,
Magazine,
Grey Daturas,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Procol Harum,
Loose Ends,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Roxette,
D'Angelo,
The Victims,
Yusef Lateef,
the Bar-Kays,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thompson Twins,
Gang of Four,
The Fall,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cramps,
Fela Kuti,
Neu!,
L. Decosne,
Siglo XX,
Organ,
The Fire Engines,
Moby Grape,
Jacques Brel,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lucky Dragons,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.