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 Nauru and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Lakeside,
The Litter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
John Coltrane,
Sex Pistols,
Zapp,
The Blues Magoos,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Y Pants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bill Wells,
The Last Poets,
The Gories,
The Raincoats,
Second Layer,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Hashim,
Grauzone,
Grey Daturas,
Rakim,
Q and Not U,
The Mummies,
The Seeds,
Sällskapet,
The Skatalites,
Franke,
Khruangbin,
Jacob Miller,
Cymande,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crispian St. Peters,
Livin' Joy,
Nirvana,
Agent Orange,
CMW,
Cecil Taylor,
Scratch Acid,
Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Suicide,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
Boredoms,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dark Day,
The Black Dice,
Jacques Brel,
Easy Going,
OOIOO,
The Moody Blues,
The Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Section 25,
Main Source,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Audionom,
Byron Stingily,
The Angels of Light,
Delon & Dalcan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
X-102,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.