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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rites of Spring to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
Davy DMX,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gichy Dan,
New Order,
Jerry's Kids,
Supertramp,
Unwound,
Albert Ayler,
Depeche Mode,
Public Enemy,
June of 44,
Barry Ungar,
MC5,
U.S. Maple,
Donald Byrd,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Popol Vuh,
Second Layer,
Lightning Bolt,
Joe Finger,
Circle Jerks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Amon Düül II,
Yusef Lateef,
Curtis Mayfield,
Slick Rick,
The Remains,
Anthony Braxton,
Kas Product,
The Golliwogs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Metal Thangz,
Aural Exciters,
Kayak,
The Vogues,
The Durutti Column,
Wasted Youth,
Bad Manners,
Groovy Waters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tropical Tobacco,
DNA,
ABC,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Pus,
Dennis Brown,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roxette,
Sam Rivers,
Darondo,
Barrington Levy,
Avey Tare,
John Holt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pere Ubu,
Sarah Menescal,
The New Christs,
The Martian,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.