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 Bhutan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 T.S.O.L. to the disco 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
the Fania All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Danielle Patucci,
Letta Mbulu,
Alphaville,
Matthew Halsall,
Camberwell Now,
Black Moon,
Roy Ayers,
Y Pants,
Metal Thangz,
Slick Rick,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker,
Darondo,
Buzzcocks,
The Mummies,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minor Threat,
Arthur Verocai,
Cameo,
The Victims,
Graham Central Station,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bootsy Collins,
Depeche Mode,
The Martian,
Symarip,
Juan Atkins,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lungfish,
Banda Bassotti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Lydon,
Kevin Saunderson,
Infiniti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slave,
The Invisible,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Wells,
Skaos,
Marine Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marc Almond,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-101,
Visage,
Spoonie Gee,
Eurythmics,
Radiohead,
Mr. Review,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Von Mondo,
Severed Heads,
Donald Byrd,
Yazoo,
The Barracudas,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.