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 Chile and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin 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 Glenn Branca to the punk 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
T. Rex,
Jacques Brel,
Wally Richardson,
Groovy Waters,
The Zeros,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bill Near,
Aswad,
Connie Case,
Man Parrish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fire Engines,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Five Americans,
Urselle,
Terry Callier,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harry Pussy,
Monolake,
Swell Maps,
Ohio Players,
Aural Exciters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Duran Duran,
The Real Kids,
X-102,
The Standells,
Electric Prunes,
Wire,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
Talk Talk,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Don Cherry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boz Scaggs,
The Grass Roots,
Marine Girls,
Accadde A,
Stiv Bators,
Brand Nubian,
Y Pants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
L. Decosne,
Masters at Work,
The Music Machine,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.