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 Jamaica and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Erykah Badu to the funk 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
X-102,
Marine Girls,
Barbara Tucker,
Smog,
Eve St. Jones,
Maleditus Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Johnny Osbourne,
Japan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marvin Gaye,
June Days,
Wings,
Gang Green,
New York Dolls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tom Boy,
Avey Tare,
Ituana,
Magazine,
Joe Finger,
Anthony Braxton,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marshall Jefferson,
Letta Mbulu,
Au Pairs,
Bill Wells,
Fugazi,
The Kinks,
Roxy Music,
Sarah Menescal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Underground Resistance,
Eddi Front,
Sound Behaviour,
Television,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
CMW,
Amon Düül II,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fall,
Todd Rundgren,
Babytalk,
Black Pus,
Steve Hackett,
Lalann,
Theoretical Girls,
Clear Light,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mars,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Germs,
Gong,
Wolf Eyes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Chris Corsano,
Bob Dylan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
World's Most,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.