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 Korea South and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Swell Maps,
Animal Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Connie Case,
Barrington Levy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
One Last Wish,
B.T. Express,
Pierre Henry,
Mr. Review,
Letta Mbulu,
K-Klass,
Television,
Brass Construction,
Radiohead,
Sixth Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Pantaleimon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yaz,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronnie Foster,
Black Sheep,
The Beau Brummels,
Idris Muhammad,
Ludus,
Underground Resistance,
Radiopuhelimet,
F. McDonald,
Cluster,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deepchord,
Adolescents,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
The Seeds,
Theoretical Girls,
the Swans,
Dual Sessions,
Desert Stars,
Morten Harket,
Black Pus,
Pole,
Babytalk,
Funkadelic,
Kerrie Biddell,
Schoolly D,
The Victims,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wire,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Womack,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fugs,
Zero Boys,
Brick,
David Bowie,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.