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 South Africa and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 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 Lalann to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers 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?
Lindisfarne,
the Swans,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Barracudas,
World's Most,
Rakim,
Fatback Band,
Funky Four + One,
Spoonie Gee,
Franke,
Marine Girls,
The Happenings,
Sandy B,
The Durutti Column,
Marmalade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Josef K,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
FM Einheit,
Joyce Sims,
The Smiths,
Slave,
The Motions,
Prince Buster,
Amon Düül II,
Wally Richardson,
Tim Buckley,
Saccharine Trust,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Junior Murvin,
Bootsy Collins,
Whodini,
Camberwell Now,
Tubeway Army,
L. Decosne,
Country Teasers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Hashim,
The Golliwogs,
Cymande,
Ten City,
Connie Case,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Livin' Joy,
KRS-One,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cal Tjader,
Scott Walker,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nils Olav,
Los Fastidios,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fall,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.