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 Marshall Islands and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 D'Angelo to the jazz 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Godley & Creme,
Arcadia,
R.M.O.,
Pussy Galore,
The Sonics,
Ultra Naté,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unrelated Segments,
Unwound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jawbox,
Mr. Review,
The Velvet Underground,
Sarah Menescal,
8 Eyed Spy,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Whodini,
Pulsallama,
Junior Murvin,
Warren Ellis,
Japan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Green,
AZ,
Marmalade,
June Days,
Ituana,
Porter Ricks,
Cheater Slicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Flipper,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ornette Coleman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fat Boys,
The Count Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Camberwell Now,
Colin Newman,
The Motions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Iggy Pop,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Scan 7,
Wire,
Ponytail,
Swans,
Scratch Acid,
Suicide,
Sister Nancy,
Nils Olav,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Sonics,
Sonny Sharrock,
Surgeon,
Television Personalities,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crime,
Lyres,
The Pretty Things,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.