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 Angola and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Reagan Youth 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 The Move. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Cal Tjader,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scion,
Nirvana,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
X-101,
Tom Boy,
The Slackers,
Todd Rundgren,
Tropical Tobacco,
Swell Maps,
Josef K,
Ken Boothe,
Suburban Knight,
Albert Ayler,
Sight & Sound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Aural Exciters,
Accadde A,
Letta Mbulu,
June Days,
Section 25,
the Slits,
These Immortal Souls,
The Red Krayola,
Underground Resistance,
Mo-Dettes,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Searchers,
Soul II Soul,
Television,
The Angels of Light,
Gabor Szabo,
The Music Machine,
Khruangbin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
48th St. Collective,
DJ Style,
Masters at Work,
Prince Buster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Vogues,
ABBA,
Man Eating Sloth,
Groovy Waters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Y Pants,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rapeman,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Au Pairs,
The Toasters,
Arcadia,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Whodini,
The Velvet Underground,
Main Source,
Supertramp,
Brothers Johnson,
Alison Limerick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.