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 Guinea-Bissau and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
These Immortal Souls,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Moody Blues,
Skriet,
Lucky Dragons,
Delta 5,
Symarip,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hardrive,
Wally Richardson,
the Bar-Kays,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marc Almond,
OOIOO,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Masters at Work,
Crime,
The Last Poets,
JFA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sparks,
Main Source,
Eric Copeland,
Warsaw,
the Human League,
Electric Prunes,
Absolute Body Control,
The Busters,
DJ Sneak,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Motions,
Nils Olav,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kas Product,
the Association,
Ultra Naté,
The Zeros,
Boredoms,
Joe Smooth,
Pharoah Sanders,
Quadrant,
Godley & Creme,
David Axelrod,
Popol Vuh,
Scion,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dennis Brown,
Soul II Soul,
Grey Daturas,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lungfish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
Letta Mbulu,
The Mojo Men,
Curtis Mayfield,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
PIL,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.