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 Grenada and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Anthony Braxton to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Lungfish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
KRS-One,
Nirvana,
Camouflage,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Alphaville,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
The Beau Brummels,
Mission of Burma,
Easy Going,
The Sonics,
Quantec,
The Fortunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
L. Decosne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Thee Headcoats,
AZ,
The Zeros,
Be Bop Deluxe,
World's Most,
The Selecter,
The Fire Engines,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Babytalk,
Gang Starr,
The Buckinghams,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Charles Mingus,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Chris Corsano,
Guru Guru,
Delta 5,
Rakim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thompson Twins,
The Invisible,
The Grass Roots,
Bluetip,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
R.M.O.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Todd Terry,
Lindisfarne,
Visage,
Max Romeo,
Q and Not U,
The New Christs,
Hardrive,
The Detroit Cobras,
DNA,
Shoche,
Gregory Isaacs,
Schoolly D,
The Pop Group,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.