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 Sri Lanka and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Eden Ahbez to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Donald Byrd,
Shoche,
Davy DMX,
10cc,
Letta Mbulu,
Siglo XX,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers,
Deepchord,
Quantec,
Bush Tetras,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tubeway Army,
Suicide,
Godley & Creme,
E-Dancer,
The Gun Club,
Dorothy Ashby,
Blossom Toes,
Crooked Eye,
The American Breed,
Monolake,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jandek,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Green,
Kool Moe Dee,
Patti Smith,
Tom Boy,
Nation of Ulysses,
New Order,
The Motions,
Qualms,
Gabor Szabo,
Eve St. Jones,
Soul Sonic Force,
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Funky Four + One,
Saccharine Trust,
The New Christs,
Mantronix,
Nirvana,
Wasted Youth,
Q65,
48th St. Collective,
Neil Young,
The Toasters,
Prince Buster,
Wire,
Eric Copeland,
The Victims,
Charles Mingus,
Shuggie Otis,
Popol Vuh,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The United States of America,
The Velvet Underground,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.