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 Jamaica and from Lagos.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bizarre Inc. to the rap 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul Sonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Bar-Kays,
Scientists,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Royal Trux,
Absolute Body Control,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lightning Bolt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Blancmange,
The Selecter,
Urselle,
Sound Behaviour,
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Star Department,
Whodini,
The Slackers,
Inner City,
X-Ray Spex,
Subhumans,
Stetsasonic,
Warsaw,
The Last Poets,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Young Marble Giants,
Ossler,
Sex Pistols,
Lebanon Hanover,
Make Up,
Ken Boothe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yellowson,
The Tremeloes,
John Lydon,
The Walker Brothers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sixth Finger,
The Names,
Cymande,
Juan Atkins,
Little Man,
Fatback Band,
Glenn Branca,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rod Modell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Quando Quango,
Ralphi Rosario,
Joe Finger,
Marine Girls,
Deadbeat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
T.S.O.L.,
Pussy Galore,
La Düsseldorf,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.