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 Liberia and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the grunge 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DNA,
48th St. Collective,
Sandy B,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lebanon Hanover,
Matthew Halsall,
MDC,
Spoonie Gee,
Funkadelic,
Toni Rubio,
Whodini,
Pussy Galore,
The Golliwogs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Michelle Simonal,
The Music Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tom Boy,
The Vogues,
The Residents,
Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
Rosa Yemen,
Brick,
T.S.O.L.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mummies,
Mad Mike,
Mandrill,
Faust,
Warren Ellis,
Arcadia,
Eli Mardock,
Charles Mingus,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Cale,
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
Public Enemy,
The Happenings,
Wings,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Carl Craig,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Colin Newman,
The Motions,
Au Pairs,
Vladislav Delay,
Scrapy,
Joey Negro,
Arthur Verocai,
Grauzone,
Hardrive,
Rekid,
Barry Ungar,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.