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 Comoros and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 oboe 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 Symarip to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Whodini,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
Minutemen,
China Crisis,
Aaron Thompson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Black Dice,
The Residents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
A Certain Ratio,
Severed Heads,
Scion,
Harry Pussy,
David Axelrod,
L. Decosne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Hashim,
Deadbeat,
The Durutti Column,
Chrome,
The Modern Lovers,
The Five Americans,
Crime,
Steve Hackett,
Archie Shepp,
The Fire Engines,
Terry Callier,
Neu!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Y Pants,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alice Coltrane,
Juan Atkins,
The Last Poets,
Throbbing Gristle,
K-Klass,
Monolake,
John Coltrane,
Alphaville,
Joyce Sims,
Yusef Lateef,
Pole,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boz Scaggs,
KRS-One,
UT,
Echospace,
The Dave Clark Five,
Clear Light,
Ronnie Foster,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Associates,
The Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Accadde A,
The Move,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.