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 Lebanon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Brick to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba 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 theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Don Cherry,
Section 25,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joensuu 1685,
Moss Icon,
Livin' Joy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Barrington Levy,
Jeff Mills,
Fat Boys,
Sonny Sharrock,
Swans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Holt,
Ronan,
Mission of Burma,
Juan Atkins,
The Dead C,
Cymande,
The Barracudas,
The Mojo Men,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Minutemen,
Charles Mingus,
Angry Samoans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nas,
Smog,
Whodini,
Boredoms,
the Bar-Kays,
Darondo,
Soul II Soul,
Negative Approach,
The Vogues,
Rites of Spring,
Amazonics,
Spoonie Gee,
Kerri Chandler,
Al Stewart,
Eli Mardock,
New York Dolls,
Mr. Review,
Judy Mowatt,
Idris Muhammad,
R.M.O.,
The Smiths,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Shuggie Otis,
The Angels of Light,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Michelle Simonal,
Warsaw,
John Foxx,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tropical Tobacco,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.