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 Ecuador and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ken Boothe to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
DJ Sneak,
Porter Ricks,
The Move,
T.S.O.L.,
Kevin Saunderson,
Television Personalities,
Joey Negro,
Eric Copeland,
June of 44,
Stetsasonic,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers,
Ronnie Foster,
New York Dolls,
Nik Kershaw,
Crooked Eye,
The Associates,
Qualms,
Anakelly,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Human League,
Aloha Tigers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
MC5,
Spandau Ballet,
E-Dancer,
Outsiders,
ABBA,
Marine Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thee Headcoats,
Cymande,
Yusef Lateef,
Rotary Connection,
the Fania All-Stars,
China Crisis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Lynne,
Nas,
Al Stewart,
Gang Green,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sun Ra,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monks,
Fela Kuti,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Sound,
Man Parrish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Groovy Waters,
Blancmange,
Arthur Verocai,
Crime,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Foxx,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kas Product,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.