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 Denmark and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Robert Hood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
Arab on Radar,
La Düsseldorf,
June of 44,
Severed Heads,
Amon Düül II,
B.T. Express,
Fluxion,
Make Up,
The Martian,
Half Japanese,
Nik Kershaw,
Iggy Pop,
Y Pants,
Roy Ayers,
the Bar-Kays,
Wally Richardson,
Mo-Dettes,
Josef K,
L. Decosne,
Hasil Adkins,
Ten City,
Liliput,
Lalo Schifrin,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Sällskapet,
Mars,
Derrick May,
Dorothy Ashby,
Letta Mbulu,
X-102,
Minnie Riperton,
Harpers Bizarre,
Con Funk Shun,
The Remains,
Idris Muhammad,
Echospace,
Barry Ungar,
EPMD,
The Knickerbockers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Names,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Alton Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
Anakelly,
Gong,
Saccharine Trust,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Davy DMX,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marine Girls,
Sam Rivers,
Livin' Joy,
Brand Nubian,
The Fire Engines,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.