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 Norway and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Fela Kuti to the funk 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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Aaron Thompson,
Jacob Miller,
Neu!,
Wings,
Grauzone,
Barclay James Harvest,
Matthew Bourne,
The United States of America,
Pole,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bill Near,
Mo-Dettes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Althea and Donna,
Smog,
Carl Craig,
Shuggie Otis,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Hill,
Funky Four + One,
Niagra,
Faraquet,
Chrome,
Fear,
Eurythmics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harry Pussy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thompson Twins,
Radio Birdman,
Arthur Verocai,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalann,
Joensuu 1685,
Procol Harum,
Soul II Soul,
Porter Ricks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soft Cell,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Talk Talk,
Ludus,
Unwound,
CMW,
Kayak,
H. Thieme,
Radiohead,
John Coltrane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sugar Minott,
The Litter,
Japan,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.