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 Slovenia and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Idris Muhammad to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Smoke,
John Coltrane,
The Grass Roots,
Flipper,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Techniques,
Terry Callier,
Agent Orange,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
D'Angelo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Modern Lovers,
Alton Ellis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Parry Music,
Ornette Coleman,
Scott Walker,
Von Mondo,
Sällskapet,
Freddie Wadling,
Josef K,
Tom Boy,
John Foxx,
Pharoah Sanders,
John Lydon,
Heaven 17,
Bill Near,
Ronnie Foster,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Nik Kershaw,
The Seeds,
The Kinks,
Fad Gadget,
Derrick Morgan,
Gang Starr,
Harmonia,
Mad Mike,
Eden Ahbez,
Supertramp,
Metal Thangz,
Country Teasers,
Easy Going,
Circle Jerks,
Maurizio,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erasure,
Main Source,
Thompson Twins,
The Red Krayola,
Angry Samoans,
A Certain Ratio,
the Normal,
Spandau Ballet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Durutti Column,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.