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 Botswana and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Davy DMX to the electroclash 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
John Coltrane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Funkadelic,
Gerry Rafferty,
Icehouse,
Amon Düül,
Joyce Sims,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joe Smooth,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deadbeat,
The Raincoats,
Scott Walker,
Agent Orange,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hot Snakes,
The Names,
Minny Pops,
Mars,
PIL,
Goldenarms,
the Soft Cell,
The Mojo Men,
Bauhaus,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cheater Slicks,
the Association,
48th St. Collective,
Urselle,
Guru Guru,
Model 500,
Lindisfarne,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Erasure,
Anthony Braxton,
Tubeway Army,
Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Electric Prunes,
This Heat,
Sun Ra,
Das Ding,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Glenn Branca,
Drexciya,
Metal Thangz,
The Moleskins,
Steve Hackett,
Barry Ungar,
DJ Style,
Siglo XX,
The Five Americans,
Black Pus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Foxx,
Lightning Bolt,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.