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 Venezuela and from Johannesburg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scientists to the rap 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Blake Baxter,
Harpers Bizarre,
New York Dolls,
Carl Craig,
Skarface,
Eric Dolphy,
Harry Pussy,
L. Decosne,
The Dead C,
Sister Nancy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Loose Ends,
Amon Düül,
June Days,
This Heat,
Crime,
Big Daddy Kane,
Godley & Creme,
New Age Steppers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Byrd,
Maurizio,
The Seeds,
Tom Boy,
Sällskapet,
Moebius,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Youth Brigade,
Theoretical Girls,
Andrew Hill,
the Association,
Rufus Thomas,
Monks,
Stereo Dub,
Alice Coltrane,
The Durutti Column,
UT,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Man Parrish,
The American Breed,
the Sonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moleskins,
Severed Heads,
Radiohead,
Barbara Tucker,
Jacob Miller,
Black Moon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eli Mardock,
Neu!,
Robert Görl,
Aaron Thompson,
Ronnie Foster,
Jawbox,
Nirvana,
The Leaves,
The Last Poets,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.