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 Samoa and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rap 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Symarip,
Kerri Chandler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Royal Trux,
Max Romeo,
ABC,
Sexual Harrassment,
Byron Stingily,
China Crisis,
Matthew Bourne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Happenings,
Derrick May,
Suicide,
Susan Cadogan,
Barry Ungar,
The Fire Engines,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wire,
Joy Division,
Spoonie Gee,
Minutemen,
Lyres,
Excepter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sun Ra,
Agitation Free,
Brass Construction,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ten City,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Scrapy,
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultravox,
The Birthday Party,
David Axelrod,
Erykah Badu,
Clear Light,
John Cale,
Arthur Verocai,
Kaleidoscope,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Monks,
KRS-One,
Ponytail,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tommy Roe,
Amon Düül II,
Archie Shepp,
Alice Coltrane,
Roger Hodgson,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Infiniti,
The Fall,
Ornette Coleman,
Desert Stars,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.