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 Pakistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
The New Christs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Matthew Halsall,
These Immortal Souls,
Inner City,
Kayak,
Josef K,
Von Mondo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skaos,
Wasted Youth,
The Young Rascals,
OOIOO,
Q and Not U,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jesper Dahlback,
Morten Harket,
Steve Hackett,
The Monks,
New York Dolls,
10cc,
Boredoms,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nik Kershaw,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fugs,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slackers,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Wells,
Popol Vuh,
Vladislav Delay,
The Remains,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
The Birthday Party,
The Busters,
Leonard Cohen,
Thee Headcoats,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Evens,
Lakeside,
Metal Thangz,
Carl Craig,
L. Decosne,
Albert Ayler,
Barrington Levy,
The Divine Comedy,
Clear Light,
The Buckinghams,
Wolf Eyes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Style,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masters at Work,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.