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 New Zealand and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba 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 The Golliwogs to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
FM Einheit,
The Blues Magoos,
the Slits,
Country Teasers,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
the Association,
Gang of Four,
The Neon Judgement,
Magazine,
Barry Ungar,
Goldenarms,
Black Bananas,
Avey Tare,
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
Piero Umiliani,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Barracudas,
EPMD,
Warsaw,
The Gun Club,
Stiv Bators,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Electric Prunes,
Danielle Patucci,
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Monochrome Set,
Connie Case,
Roger Hodgson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Terry Callier,
Black Sheep,
Grandmaster Flash,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
World's Most,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Das Ding,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rod Modell,
Eli Mardock,
Pulsallama,
Crime,
John Foxx,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fuzztones,
Quando Quango,
Black Pus,
Ludus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Vladislav Delay,
Cybotron,
the Fania All-Stars,
Unrelated Segments,
The Red Krayola,
Kaleidoscope,
Banda Bassotti,
D'Angelo,
The Count Five,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.