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 Botswana and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the techno 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zapp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The Red Krayola,
Drive Like Jehu,
Qualms,
Oblivians,
the Germs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Duran Duran,
Arcadia,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cecil Taylor,
Babytalk,
The Fall,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
ABC,
a-ha,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Schoolly D,
Fela Kuti,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marc Almond,
Ultra Naté,
The Searchers,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yellowson,
Brothers Johnson,
Intrusion,
Little Man,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
cv313,
Ronan,
Pantaleimon,
Radio Birdman,
Funkadelic,
8 Eyed Spy,
The New Christs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Raincoats,
Brick,
Nico,
Mary Jane Girls,
Make Up,
Curtis Mayfield,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Stetsasonic,
Tommy Roe,
Vladislav Delay,
Von Mondo,
Mark Hollis,
The Cramps,
E-Dancer,
Cymande,
Davy DMX,
David Axelrod,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.