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 Romania and from Accra.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 Porter Ricks 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Groovy Waters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bluetip,
KRS-One,
Man Eating Sloth,
Faraquet,
Jawbox,
Little Man,
The Toasters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Janne Schatter,
Joey Negro,
Harry Pussy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Harpers Bizarre,
Soul II Soul,
Roxette,
Marshall Jefferson,
Shuggie Otis,
Mars,
Rakim,
The Saints,
Stiv Bators,
Nils Olav,
Bootsy Collins,
EPMD,
Scratch Acid,
Easy Going,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Dawn Penn,
Leonard Cohen,
T. Rex,
Nas,
Yusef Lateef,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Mills,
H. Thieme,
Ultravox,
Piero Umiliani,
Andrew Hill,
Mr. Review,
D'Angelo,
Soft Machine,
Colin Newman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grauzone,
Cal Tjader,
John Foxx,
LL Cool J,
Smog,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Evens,
Quando Quango,
The Moody Blues,
Grandmaster Flash,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.