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 Cape Verde and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Michael McDonald 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 Pantytec to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Swell Maps,
Bad Manners,
Ludus,
Eric Copeland,
Kayak,
Intrusion,
Quadrant,
Simply Red,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soft Machine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DJ Style,
Reagan Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stetsasonic,
Aural Exciters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Warsaw,
Eve St. Jones,
Roger Hodgson,
Interpol,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter and Kerry,
Khruangbin,
Rekid,
Bobby Womack,
the Human League,
Pagans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cybotron,
cv313,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Alison Limerick,
Monks,
New Age Steppers,
The Residents,
The Zeros,
Faust,
The Gladiators,
Peter & Gordon,
Neu!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
The Busters,
Magma,
Black Pus,
The Cowsills,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sandy B,
Metal Thangz,
The Kinks,
Arcadia,
Chris Corsano,
Smog,
Dennis Brown,
Gil Scott Heron,
Procol Harum,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.