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 United Kingdom and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Slave,
The Wake,
Patti Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Second Layer,
Albert Ayler,
the Germs,
The J.B.'s,
The Martian,
The Walker Brothers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sarah Menescal,
Lou Christie,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Man Parrish,
Surgeon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Intrusion,
Boz Scaggs,
Derrick May,
Model 500,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cymande,
Television Personalities,
Minutemen,
Boredoms,
Soul II Soul,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eli Mardock,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Durutti Column,
Au Pairs,
Y Pants,
MDC,
The Gories,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Trumans Water,
Donald Byrd,
The New Christs,
This Heat,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nas,
Circle Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arthur Verocai,
Mo-Dettes,
Panda Bear,
Camberwell Now,
Organ,
Symarip,
Ronnie Foster,
Tears for Fears,
Fad Gadget,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.