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 Moldova and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 June of 44 to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Altered Images,
Mark Hollis,
Monks,
June of 44,
Ossler,
Lalo Schifrin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jawbox,
Howard Jones,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Archie Shepp,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kerri Chandler,
Jerry's Kids,
Ronan,
B.T. Express,
Make Up,
Gong,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bauhaus,
Wolf Eyes,
The Techniques,
Goldenarms,
Kenny Larkin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Franke,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kas Product,
R.M.O.,
Albert Ayler,
Rapeman,
Alison Limerick,
The Sound,
Parry Music,
Man Parrish,
The Vogues,
New Age Steppers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Janne Schatter,
Graham Central Station,
Nirvana,
Byron Stingily,
Zero Boys,
Tom Boy,
Depeche Mode,
The Fire Engines,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Das Ding,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Piero Umiliani,
Banda Bassotti,
Cybotron,
In Retrospect,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Real Kids,
The Moody Blues,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.