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 Hungary and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Glambeats Corp. to the punk 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 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 Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Pere Ubu,
DJ Sneak,
The Cosmic Jokers,
10cc,
Lower 48,
The Durutti Column,
Black Bananas,
Heaven 17,
Au Pairs,
The Index,
Derrick May,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
The Skatalites,
Brand Nubian,
Blancmange,
Robert Görl,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Human League,
The Searchers,
Toni Rubio,
Ken Boothe,
Skriet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Minny Pops,
Girls At Our Best!,
David Axelrod,
kango's stein massive,
Mad Mike,
Echospace,
Ten City,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sonics,
Colin Newman,
The Fall,
Kool Moe Dee,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Offenders,
The Toasters,
the Fania All-Stars,
B.T. Express,
The United States of America,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Flesh Eaters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Livin' Joy,
Aaron Thompson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Camberwell Now,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
June of 44,
Bobby Womack,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.