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 Mexico and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Erykah Badu to the grunge 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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Boz Scaggs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sällskapet,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sarah Menescal,
The Angels of Light,
the Germs,
These Immortal Souls,
Michelle Simonal,
Dorothy Ashby,
Icehouse,
The Cure,
Black Bananas,
UT,
DJ Sneak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Groovy Waters,
D'Angelo,
Eli Mardock,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeff Lynne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Monochrome Set,
Lucky Dragons,
Tropical Tobacco,
Procol Harum,
The Misunderstood,
Lee Hazlewood,
Banda Bassotti,
Derrick May,
Joyce Sims,
Joe Smooth,
Tom Boy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Simply Red,
Wire,
The Zeros,
Boredoms,
Crooked Eye,
The Durutti Column,
Sight & Sound,
The Human League,
Grauzone,
Faust,
Albert Ayler,
Television,
The Toasters,
Crash Course in Science,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Names,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kas Product,
Slave,
The Associates,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mo-Dettes,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronnie Foster,
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magma,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.