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 Hungary and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jeru the Damaja to the disco 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Cal Tjader,
Rufus Thomas,
Reuben Wilson,
Unwound,
Rites of Spring,
Glambeats Corp.,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Newcleus,
Essential Logic,
Erykah Badu,
Model 500,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jawbox,
Bobby Womack,
The Moleskins,
the Fania All-Stars,
Urselle,
Nick Fraelich,
X-101,
Wings,
Panda Bear,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bang On A Can,
Joensuu 1685,
Grandmaster Flash,
The New Christs,
Marmalade,
Terry Callier,
Yusef Lateef,
Crime,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Angels of Light,
June of 44,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cameo,
Youth Brigade,
Alice Coltrane,
Connie Case,
Gichy Dan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Section 25,
Yazoo,
The Tremeloes,
Negative Approach,
Rekid,
The Associates,
Ultra Naté,
Anthony Braxton,
Talk Talk,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Young Marble Giants,
Aaron Thompson,
Dawn Penn,
Graham Central Station,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sugar Minott,
Lalann,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.