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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mumbai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Anthony Braxton to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Ronnie Foster,
Dual Sessions,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kayak,
The Tremeloes,
10cc,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Livin' Joy,
David McCallum,
Au Pairs,
R.M.O.,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eric Copeland,
Lyres,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Blackbyrds,
Basic Channel,
Mad Mike,
Gang of Four,
Max Romeo,
Lalann,
The Kinks,
Qualms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
The Music Machine,
John Lydon,
The Techniques,
China Crisis,
MC5,
Ten City,
H. Thieme,
Gichy Dan,
Terry Callier,
Rosa Yemen,
Dave Gahan,
Masters at Work,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Unrelated Segments,
Banda Bassotti,
Jandek,
Buzzcocks,
Cymande,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
Camouflage,
June Days,
The Gladiators,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
Carl Craig,
The Trojans,
Shuggie Otis,
Porter Ricks,
Funkadelic,
Sexual Harrassment,
Letta Mbulu,
The Names,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.