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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Cale to the jazz 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Max Romeo,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Holt,
Arab on Radar,
Yellowson,
Derrick May,
Al Stewart,
Cluster,
Subhumans,
Chris & Cosey,
Todd Rundgren,
Frankie Knuckles,
Howard Jones,
Matthew Bourne,
The Last Poets,
Aural Exciters,
Pagans,
Black Sheep,
The Blues Magoos,
Maurizio,
The Real Kids,
Brick,
Thee Headcoats,
Idris Muhammad,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Happenings,
Magma,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cecil Taylor,
ABBA,
Brothers Johnson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Minor Threat,
Donald Byrd,
Negative Approach,
Dead Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Ultra Naté,
Cal Tjader,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Martian,
Trumans Water,
Quantec,
the Bar-Kays,
The Knickerbockers,
Danielle Patucci,
Erasure,
MC5,
The Move,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
Masters at Work,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lebanon Hanover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.