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 Greece and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Erykah Badu to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
New Order,
One Last Wish,
Grauzone,
Slick Rick,
Khruangbin,
Glenn Branca,
Alton Ellis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang of Four,
Rosa Yemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Altered Images,
Marine Girls,
Quando Quango,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Parry Music,
Quadrant,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Massinfluence,
Crooked Eye,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bluetip,
Liliput,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronan,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Sherman,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Vogues,
Henry Cow,
Mars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
Susan Cadogan,
Mr. Review,
Sonic Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
Bill Wells,
John Coltrane,
Flipper,
The United States of America,
Lungfish,
Derrick May,
Faust,
China Crisis,
Stetsasonic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Saccharine Trust,
the Association,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monks,
Eric Copeland,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television Personalities,
The Black Dice,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.