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 Suriname and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Yusef Lateef to the rap 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Inner City,
The Moleskins,
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
The Gladiators,
The Stooges,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Trumans Water,
Goldenarms,
The Vogues,
Minutemen,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Skaos,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sound Behaviour,
Black Bananas,
Marc Almond,
Henry Cow,
The Doors,
The Searchers,
Con Funk Shun,
Severed Heads,
Television,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Dolphy,
Jerry's Kids,
Mission of Burma,
The Birthday Party,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moebius,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jawbox,
Fear,
Public Image Ltd.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pere Ubu,
Ultravox,
Darondo,
Ludus,
Rosa Yemen,
Flamin' Groovies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
AZ,
Mary Jane Girls,
F. McDonald,
John Lydon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
MDC,
Morten Harket,
Connie Case,
The Evens,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
H. Thieme,
Interpol,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tres Demented,
ABBA,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.