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 Ghana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Archie Shepp,
Easy Going,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faraquet,
Harry Pussy,
a-ha,
Jeff Mills,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Goldenarms,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pantytec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gabor Szabo,
Technova,
Suburban Knight,
Aural Exciters,
Animal Collective,
Aswad,
Matthew Bourne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Absolute Body Control,
Little Man,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Prince Buster,
Charles Mingus,
Japan,
PIL,
The Slits,
Pussy Galore,
Tears for Fears,
Nas,
Minutemen,
Sister Nancy,
Television,
The Index,
The Fugs,
David Bowie,
Rites of Spring,
Pet Shop Boys,
Terry Callier,
the Bar-Kays,
Pylon,
Warren Ellis,
Judy Mowatt,
Jacob Miller,
The Searchers,
The Mojo Men,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Depeche Mode,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Susan Cadogan,
The Stooges,
Lungfish,
Yellowson,
Babytalk,
Echospace,
Albert Ayler,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.