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 Netherlands and from Calgary.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Gladiators to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
The Black Dice,
Audionom,
Bluetip,
John Lydon,
Brothers Johnson,
Clear Light,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cowsills,
Nico,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pierre Henry,
Roxette,
Grandmaster Flash,
Youth Brigade,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jeff Mills,
Faraquet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Altered Images,
Mark Hollis,
The Music Machine,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
Oblivians,
Yellowson,
Slick Rick,
Joy Division,
Quando Quango,
Albert Ayler,
cv313,
Ludus,
Brand Nubian,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Byrd,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Stiv Bators,
The Beau Brummels,
Tubeway Army,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Connie Case,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lower 48,
Deakin,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Green,
Technova,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Red Krayola,
Ronan,
Gang Starr,
Flamin' Groovies,
Icehouse,
Heaven 17,
Desert Stars,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.