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 Mauritius and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Public Image Ltd. to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes 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 linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
World's Most,
Roxy Music,
Piero Umiliani,
Marc Almond,
Clear Light,
E-Dancer,
The Black Dice,
Skriet,
Make Up,
The American Breed,
Sparks,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sound,
Half Japanese,
Prince Buster,
Amazonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Can,
Nas,
Oneida,
Fugazi,
Popol Vuh,
Bill Wells,
The Cowsills,
Bad Manners,
Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
X-Ray Spex,
Funky Four + One,
Faraquet,
Sugar Minott,
Magazine,
Black Bananas,
One Last Wish,
B.T. Express,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Gang Dance,
Brothers Johnson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lucky Dragons,
KRS-One,
The Gun Club,
Isaac Hayes,
Patti Smith,
Rites of Spring,
Quadrant,
Robert Görl,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gories,
LL Cool J,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jeff Mills,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.