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 Bahamas and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Robert Görl to the grunge 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
LL Cool J,
Man Parrish,
Byron Stingily,
Marcia Griffiths,
Aaron Thompson,
T. Rex,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Y Pants,
Jerry's Kids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sun City Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Michelle Simonal,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Todd Rundgren,
Japan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sugar Minott,
Goldenarms,
The Motions,
Adolescents,
Terrestrial Tones,
Symarip,
Radiopuhelimet,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Blues Magoos,
Sun Ra,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gories,
the Slits,
Maurizio,
Robert Hood,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Faust,
David Bowie,
Soft Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
Interpol,
London Community Gospel Choir,
JFA,
The Trojans,
Brand Nubian,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marine Girls,
Mark Hollis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Last Poets,
The Cowsills,
T.S.O.L.,
The Stooges,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Saints,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Glenn Branca,
Yusef Lateef,
Talk Talk,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.