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 Malta and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Funky Four + One to the electroclash 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Howard Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mo-Dettes,
Roy Ayers,
The Five Americans,
Byron Stingily,
Severed Heads,
Tubeway Army,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nik Kershaw,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Leaves,
Suburban Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hot Snakes,
Maurizio,
Gang of Four,
Ludus,
Ten City,
One Last Wish,
A Certain Ratio,
Amon Düül,
Barrington Levy,
Magazine,
The Residents,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed,
Con Funk Shun,
Television Personalities,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gabor Szabo,
Marine Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
Cameo,
Matthew Halsall,
The Gun Club,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Clarke,
Drexciya,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Porter Ricks,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
Thompson Twins,
Crime,
Joe Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Donny Hathaway,
Soul Sonic Force,
Terry Callier,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Livin' Joy,
Prince Buster,
Lou Christie,
Rapeman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aural Exciters,
Qualms,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.