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 Vietnam and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 DNA to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Smog,
Hoover,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crooked Eye,
The Fugs,
The Red Krayola,
Grauzone,
Iggy Pop,
Infiniti,
Lucky Dragons,
The Litter,
Frankie Knuckles,
Trumans Water,
The Neon Judgement,
The Electric Prunes,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Skatalites,
Slick Rick,
Black Flag,
Colin Newman,
Pulsallama,
The Raincoats,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Golliwogs,
Lyres,
Erykah Badu,
Brass Construction,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kayak,
Deadbeat,
Altered Images,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pierre Henry,
Marvin Gaye,
Inner City,
Minnie Riperton,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Selecter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moby Grape,
Mantronix,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dual Sessions,
Hot Snakes,
Matthew Bourne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Eric Copeland,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Oblivians,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lakeside,
Yellowson,
Niagra,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.