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 Libya and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
The Zeros,
Girls At Our Best!,
Panda Bear,
Mad Mike,
Oblivians,
Reagan Youth,
Marine Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Lalo Schifrin,
Groovy Waters,
Infiniti,
Joe Smooth,
The Knickerbockers,
Bill Wells,
Cal Tjader,
Pylon,
Bob Dylan,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Neon Judgement,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Con Funk Shun,
Eli Mardock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ten City,
Moebius,
Howard Jones,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Pagans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scientists,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Pus,
Malaria!,
The Misunderstood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boogie Down Productions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dennis Brown,
Circle Jerks,
L. Decosne,
Vainqueur,
Popol Vuh,
The Durutti Column,
UT,
The Seeds,
Cybotron,
X-Ray Spex,
Fat Boys,
Gichy Dan,
EPMD,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Five Americans,
Godley & Creme,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Beau Brummels,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.