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 Nigeria and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
Swell Maps,
Qualms,
Soulsonic Force,
The Toasters,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
The Shadows of Knight,
EPMD,
The Litter,
Idris Muhammad,
Isaac Hayes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The United States of America,
Mr. Review,
Technova,
Kurtis Blow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Adolescents,
Ralphi Rosario,
Electric Prunes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marmalade,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fuzztones,
Alton Ellis,
The Zeros,
The Divine Comedy,
The American Breed,
The Real Kids,
Clear Light,
The Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Glambeats Corp.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Stiv Bators,
Drexciya,
The Neon Judgement,
DNA,
The Fortunes,
Zero Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barry Ungar,
Crime,
Flipper,
Sugar Minott,
Nico,
Graham Central Station,
Alphaville,
John Foxx,
Supertramp,
Janne Schatter,
Los Fastidios,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Camberwell Now,
Flash Fearless,
Mary Jane Girls,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.