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 East Timor and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 PIL to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
the Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Model 500,
Andrew Hill,
Ice-T,
Josef K,
Big Daddy Kane,
Moebius,
Malaria!,
Don Cherry,
D'Angelo,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fire Engines,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Junior Murvin,
Main Source,
Severed Heads,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
Scott Walker,
Susan Cadogan,
Japan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smiths,
The Slackers,
Yusef Lateef,
Marshall Jefferson,
OOIOO,
Judy Mowatt,
Swell Maps,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brass Construction,
Niagra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angry Samoans,
KRS-One,
L. Decosne,
Bad Manners,
UT,
Zapp,
Hasil Adkins,
Motorama,
Bang On A Can,
Crooked Eye,
Mars,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Beau Brummels,
Cybotron,
Scan 7,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Panda Bear,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Freddie Wadling,
Excepter,
Ronnie Foster,
Albert Ayler,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.