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 Mexico and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Todd Terry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Robert Wyatt,
Procol Harum,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Foxx,
Joe Finger,
Stereo Dub,
The Black Dice,
Alison Limerick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Suicide,
Y Pants,
Stiv Bators,
Tubeway Army,
Bobby Womack,
Bang On A Can,
Outsiders,
Gang Starr,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Star Department,
Minutemen,
David Axelrod,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Association,
June Days,
Bush Tetras,
The Skatalites,
Max Romeo,
Peter and Kerry,
Siglo XX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Graham Central Station,
Curtis Mayfield,
JFA,
The Gladiators,
EPMD,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Whodini,
Sandy B,
Juan Atkins,
Blake Baxter,
Tears for Fears,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sparks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Carl Craig,
Agitation Free,
Can,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mr. Review,
MDC,
Bill Wells,
Little Man,
The Dead C,
Reuben Wilson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.