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 Bulgaria and from London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 New York Dolls 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Misunderstood,
Suburban Knight,
Roxette,
These Immortal Souls,
Letta Mbulu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Basic Channel,
Metal Thangz,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cure,
ABC,
Blake Baxter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nick Fraelich,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bluetip,
Drexciya,
Barbara Tucker,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Thee Headcoats,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Supertramp,
The Stooges,
Don Cherry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Toni Rubio,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ponytail,
Warren Ellis,
The Grass Roots,
The Techniques,
Rod Modell,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Womack,
Unwound,
Audionom,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Aural Exciters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Mills,
Bronski Beat,
Index,
Liliput,
Monolake,
Scan 7,
Television,
Wings,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nico,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Tres Demented,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.