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 Cape Verde and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and London.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Wally Richardson to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Livin' Joy,
Los Fastidios,
K-Klass,
Juan Atkins,
Cal Tjader,
Amon Düül II,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ponytail,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mantronix,
UT,
Electric Prunes,
Intrusion,
Moebius,
Metal Thangz,
Severed Heads,
The American Breed,
Stereo Dub,
The Red Krayola,
Marc Almond,
Little Man,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donald Byrd,
Peter & Gordon,
Derrick Morgan,
The Skatalites,
Agitation Free,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
Boz Scaggs,
Motorama,
Black Moon,
B.T. Express,
The Black Dice,
Scott Walker,
Blossom Toes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Qualms,
Sällskapet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Half Japanese,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brand Nubian,
Sugar Minott,
Maleditus Sound,
The Motions,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Angry Samoans,
The Cure,
Guru Guru,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Neon Judgement,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Leaves,
Susan Cadogan,
Rites of Spring,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.