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 Nicaragua and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ronnie Foster to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
These Immortal Souls,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
Jawbox,
Bizarre Inc.,
The New Christs,
James White and The Blacks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Funky Four + One,
Pole,
Sexual Harrassment,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Depeche Mode,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Brick,
Gong,
Buzzcocks,
Lower 48,
Soul Sonic Force,
Inner City,
Qualms,
Moss Icon,
Ten City,
Fluxion,
Grauzone,
The Skatalites,
LL Cool J,
Maurizio,
Agent Orange,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
The Young Rascals,
Electric Prunes,
Pylon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Theoretical Girls,
The Kinks,
The Gories,
Dead Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Marmalade,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Angels of Light,
Warsaw,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Real Kids,
Graham Central Station,
John Holt,
Stetsasonic,
Aural Exciters,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.