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 Chad and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tears for Fears to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane 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 '80s 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 Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Section 25,
Johnny Clarke,
Avey Tare,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Smoke,
Reagan Youth,
Pylon,
Gang of Four,
Eyeless In Gaza,
A Certain Ratio,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tres Demented,
X-102,
The Modern Lovers,
Kas Product,
Radiohead,
The Real Kids,
Sparks,
The Gap Band,
Todd Terry,
Porter Ricks,
Dead Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Toni Rubio,
Chrome,
Lakeside,
Monks,
Reuben Wilson,
Das Ding,
DJ Style,
The Golliwogs,
OOIOO,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Standells,
Albert Ayler,
Con Funk Shun,
Mission of Burma,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
UT,
Quando Quango,
Au Pairs,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
Neil Young,
The Happenings,
the Normal,
Byron Stingily,
Ultimate Spinach,
Popol Vuh,
The Young Rascals,
Trumans Water,
Nick Fraelich,
Suicide,
Godley & Creme,
Darondo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Arab on Radar,
Brand Nubian,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.