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 Fiji and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Das Ding to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash,
F. McDonald,
Fat Boys,
Alphaville,
T. Rex,
James White and The Blacks,
Ken Boothe,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Organ,
Cecil Taylor,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare,
The Buckinghams,
Black Flag,
Make Up,
Erasure,
Visage,
Yaz,
Ultra Naté,
The Grass Roots,
Shoche,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crooked Eye,
Soul II Soul,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ornette Coleman,
Pulsallama,
Blake Baxter,
Todd Rundgren,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül II,
Sparks,
Ohio Players,
Wire,
the Slits,
Absolute Body Control,
Sandy B,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Michelle Simonal,
The Leaves,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eden Ahbez,
Das Ding,
Ponytail,
Bauhaus,
Anakelly,
Soulsonic Force,
Dave Gahan,
Susan Cadogan,
The Martian,
Gang of Four,
Drexciya,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Stooges,
Lightning Bolt,
Lungfish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Monks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.