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 Qatar and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes 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 rap 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Livin' Joy,
The Modern Lovers,
Bauhaus,
The Toasters,
Inner City,
Das Ding,
The Cure,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Hasil Adkins,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Cramps,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
Alice Coltrane,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gap Band,
New Age Steppers,
the Sonics,
Whodini,
Basic Channel,
Deakin,
Susan Cadogan,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The American Breed,
Altered Images,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Sherman,
X-101,
Siglo XX,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nas,
Josef K,
Connie Case,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kurtis Blow,
Easy Going,
The Pretty Things,
a-ha,
D'Angelo,
Soul II Soul,
Angry Samoans,
Fluxion,
Kerri Chandler,
Joe Finger,
Dead Boys,
Youth Brigade,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fall,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxy Music,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Niagra,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.