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 China and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 June of 44 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Groovy Waters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mr. Review,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
Fugazi,
Davy DMX,
The Beau Brummels,
The Red Krayola,
Essential Logic,
Kevin Saunderson,
Franke,
Flipper,
Adolescents,
These Immortal Souls,
Zapp,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Guru Guru,
The Gladiators,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
Amon Düül,
The Fall,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Youth Brigade,
Judy Mowatt,
Idris Muhammad,
Kaleidoscope,
Peter and Kerry,
Eric Dolphy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
Loose Ends,
Robert Wyatt,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Evens,
China Crisis,
Bauhaus,
Black Flag,
Blossom Toes,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Busters,
Dawn Penn,
Gichy Dan,
Eli Mardock,
Skaos,
Jimmy McGriff,
Grey Daturas,
Duran Duran,
EPMD,
La Düsseldorf,
The Mojo Men,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Whodini,
Slick Rick,
Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions.
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.