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 Austria and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
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 sitar 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 The United States of America to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Brothers Johnson,
Bob Dylan,
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Sneak,
Gabor Szabo,
Sugar Minott,
Y Pants,
Blake Baxter,
The Happenings,
Bobby Womack,
Surgeon,
Make Up,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
Liliput,
the Swans,
X-Ray Spex,
Fluxion,
Iggy Pop,
The Evens,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crime,
Bill Wells,
The Stooges,
Suburban Knight,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New York Dolls,
Audionom,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
The Human League,
Fatback Band,
Porter Ricks,
Amon Düül II,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Tremeloes,
Depeche Mode,
Isaac Hayes,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Pierre Henry,
Warsaw,
Icehouse,
Graham Central Station,
Davy DMX,
Bang On A Can,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonny Sharrock,
Clear Light,
Dark Day,
The Slackers,
Absolute Body Control,
Mad Mike,
Ken Boothe,
Aswad,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Durutti Column,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Desert Stars,
Amon Düül,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.