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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 8 Eyed Spy to the funk 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Section 25,
Nirvana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rosa Yemen,
Peter & Gordon,
Eric Dolphy,
Deakin,
Eddi Front,
Sugar Minott,
Kaleidoscope,
Neu!,
Babytalk,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bootsy Collins,
John Lydon,
Todd Terry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jacob Miller,
The Fuzztones,
Sixth Finger,
Harpers Bizarre,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Red Krayola,
Drexciya,
Boredoms,
The Flesh Eaters,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers,
The Slits,
Dark Day,
EPMD,
Chrome,
The Dirtbombs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nico,
The Music Machine,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Cal Tjader,
Swans,
The Busters,
The Zeros,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grey Daturas,
Minny Pops,
Colin Newman,
DJ Sneak,
Ultra Naté,
The Invisible,
Camouflage,
Josef K,
Soft Cell,
Andrew Hill,
Johnny Clarke,
DJ Style,
The United States of America,
The Sound,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.