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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Symarip to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Erasure,
Anakelly,
The Leaves,
Flipper,
Talk Talk,
Eve St. Jones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
JFA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Reagan Youth,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
Connie Case,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Move,
Lucky Dragons,
Letta Mbulu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cluster,
Blossom Toes,
Cecil Taylor,
The Gories,
Pylon,
Mad Mike,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Remains,
Brothers Johnson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Leonard Cohen,
Charles Mingus,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Last Poets,
Ponytail,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Count Five,
Cheater Slicks,
Tommy Roe,
Khruangbin,
Technova,
Ituana,
E-Dancer,
The Alarm Clocks,
Delta 5,
The Seeds,
Popol Vuh,
Donald Byrd,
Lungfish,
The Modern Lovers,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Lydon,
Unrelated Segments,
Section 25,
Pet Shop Boys,
Piero Umiliani,
Heaven 17,
The Busters,
Duran Duran,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.