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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rhythm & Sound to the crunk 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Soul II Soul,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Almond,
Porter Ricks,
New York Dolls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bad Manners,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lungfish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yaz,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Stooges,
Lyres,
Massinfluence,
Newcleus,
Freddie Wadling,
Johnny Clarke,
Main Source,
Monolake,
Isaac Hayes,
Skaos,
Depeche Mode,
Blake Baxter,
Icehouse,
Boz Scaggs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fat Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Dennis Brown,
Jacques Brel,
Eddi Front,
Hot Snakes,
Royal Trux,
Cal Tjader,
Excepter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yazoo,
Faust,
Quantec,
The Move,
Youth Brigade,
Kerri Chandler,
One Last Wish,
Livin' Joy,
Boredoms,
Eurythmics,
The Smoke,
The Evens,
Kaleidoscope,
Cybotron,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Clear Light,
The Names,
Bizarre Inc.,
June of 44,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.