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 Uzbekistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin 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 Donald Byrd to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 OOIOO. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rites of Spring,
Fela Kuti,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Junior Murvin,
John Cale,
Adolescents,
DJ Style,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jeff Mills,
Black Sheep,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scrapy,
Soft Cell,
Excepter,
Yusef Lateef,
A Certain Ratio,
The Star Department,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Morten Harket,
The Moody Blues,
Blancmange,
Masters at Work,
Thompson Twins,
Absolute Body Control,
Ponytail,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
DJ Sneak,
Warren Ellis,
Tomorrow,
CMW,
John Holt,
Fluxion,
Underground Resistance,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
Donald Byrd,
Pylon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Barry Ungar,
Schoolly D,
Crooked Eye,
The Gladiators,
Tubeway Army,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
Yellowson,
Danielle Patucci,
Gong,
The Sound,
Youth Brigade,
The Smoke,
10cc,
The Index,
Amazonics,
Animal Collective,
Arcadia,
Ken Boothe,
The Searchers,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.