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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Charles Mingus to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rod Modell,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
Prince Buster,
Bluetip,
Deadbeat,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke,
Rapeman,
Lungfish,
A Certain Ratio,
Quando Quango,
The Trojans,
Motorama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Amazonics,
Mantronix,
Morten Harket,
Kurtis Blow,
Lower 48,
Half Japanese,
Malaria!,
The Motions,
T.S.O.L.,
Cecil Taylor,
Eddi Front,
Moby Grape,
Junior Murvin,
Quantec,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skriet,
Wally Richardson,
The Moody Blues,
Spoonie Gee,
Vainqueur,
The Angels of Light,
Ossler,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sixth Finger,
Newcleus,
Moebius,
Godley & Creme,
The Count Five,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harmonia,
Camberwell Now,
Steve Hackett,
Frankie Knuckles,
The New Christs,
The Five Americans,
Television Personalities,
Cheater Slicks,
Circle Jerks,
Roxy Music,
Accadde A,
Joe Smooth,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.