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 Hungary and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the jazz 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Amon Düül II,
Donald Byrd,
Carl Craig,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
In Retrospect,
Lungfish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
James White and The Blacks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barry Ungar,
Davy DMX,
Pantytec,
Man Eating Sloth,
China Crisis,
Ituana,
Ultra Naté,
Suicide,
Tim Buckley,
Kayak,
Ohio Players,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hashim,
AZ,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Erykah Badu,
New Age Steppers,
Soft Machine,
John Holt,
Jawbox,
The Happenings,
Skaos,
Television,
The Monks,
Dead Boys,
Little Man,
Delta 5,
Reuben Wilson,
Ice-T,
The Cramps,
Soft Cell,
Roger Hodgson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Con Funk Shun,
Sarah Menescal,
D'Angelo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Terrestrial Tones,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lakeside,
Hoover,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Association,
Rakim,
F. McDonald,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.