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 Jamaica and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 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 Ronnie Foster to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Electric Prunes,
New York Dolls,
Kas Product,
Man Eating Sloth,
Panda Bear,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Victims,
Warsaw,
Sexual Harrassment,
Negative Approach,
Scrapy,
Anakelly,
U.S. Maple,
Hoover,
John Foxx,
Talk Talk,
Deadbeat,
The Selecter,
Judy Mowatt,
Laurel Aitken,
Fad Gadget,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
B.T. Express,
Agent Orange,
Soulsonic Force,
Accadde A,
Pagans,
Surgeon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ice-T,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Barracudas,
Sarah Menescal,
Deepchord,
The Stooges,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Green,
Gang Starr,
Duran Duran,
Rod Modell,
Model 500,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aaron Thompson,
Royal Trux,
the Slits,
Black Bananas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
Masters at Work,
Spoonie Gee,
10cc,
Quantec,
The Gladiators,
The Last Poets,
Lakeside,
Cecil Taylor,
The Searchers,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hashim,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.