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 Belgium and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Cymande to the rap 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
Clear Light,
Sparks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
David McCallum,
Accadde A,
Letta Mbulu,
Lyres,
X-Ray Spex,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sound,
Yazoo,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Whodini,
Nas,
X-101,
Idris Muhammad,
Bob Dylan,
A Certain Ratio,
Robert Hood,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mandrill,
Lower 48,
Desert Stars,
kango's stein massive,
Slick Rick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pere Ubu,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
Silicon Teens,
Los Fastidios,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Womack,
Eli Mardock,
The Evens,
Audionom,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Outsiders,
Thee Headcoats,
Roger Hodgson,
Quantec,
Cecil Taylor,
Visage,
Franke,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rod Modell,
The Dirtbombs,
Eden Ahbez,
Amazonics,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mars,
Nik Kershaw,
Mission of Burma,
Maleditus Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kurtis Blow,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.