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 Belgium and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bad Manners 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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?
Agent Orange,
Skarface,
Prince Buster,
The Busters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Yaz,
Kerrie Biddell,
Carl Craig,
Radiohead,
John Lydon,
The Tremeloes,
The Litter,
Pantytec,
Lakeside,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Negative Approach,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Rundgren,
Rapeman,
Tom Boy,
Sun Ra,
Flamin' Groovies,
Qualms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Little Man,
Franke,
Swans,
Brothers Johnson,
Man Parrish,
The Fire Engines,
Liliput,
Rufus Thomas,
Joensuu 1685,
The Stooges,
Crash Course in Science,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Anthony Braxton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cal Tjader,
F. McDonald,
Pagans,
Robert Görl,
Andrew Hill,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pierre Henry,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fuzztones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Shoche,
Animal Collective,
the Slits,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fluxion,
Rakim,
Marine Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.