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 Cuba and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Stiv Bators,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Sneak,
The Slackers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Pus,
Cluster,
Reuben Wilson,
cv313,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
Eurythmics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy Collins,
Motorama,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Royal Trux,
The Names,
Scientists,
Ituana,
Nils Olav,
Eric Copeland,
Anthony Braxton,
Nas,
Marmalade,
The Residents,
Mark Hollis,
Fat Boys,
The Index,
Model 500,
James White and The Blacks,
Drexciya,
Faust,
Bobby Sherman,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Swell Maps,
Harry Pussy,
Masters at Work,
Sister Nancy,
The New Christs,
Eden Ahbez,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Grass Roots,
Von Mondo,
Rosa Yemen,
The Raincoats,
Avey Tare,
John Foxx,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gap Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marine Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Moby Grape,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.