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 Angola and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Alton Ellis to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dawn Penn,
Marvin Gaye,
Max Romeo,
H. Thieme,
the Fania All-Stars,
Matthew Bourne,
Schoolly D,
Quantec,
The Index,
Terry Callier,
Lalo Schifrin,
Warren Ellis,
The Sonics,
Radiohead,
Mad Mike,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Bar-Kays,
Ice-T,
Judy Mowatt,
Slick Rick,
Das Ding,
Crime,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lakeside,
Ornette Coleman,
Joey Negro,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Trojans,
Ponytail,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tomorrow,
Infiniti,
Bill Wells,
Masters at Work,
Kurtis Blow,
Eden Ahbez,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Junior Murvin,
The Motions,
Angry Samoans,
The Toasters,
Bobby Byrd,
Brand Nubian,
Metal Thangz,
Ludus,
Pierre Henry,
Anthony Braxton,
Little Man,
Gang Starr,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scott Walker,
Marine Girls,
Roxette,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
In Retrospect,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.