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 South Sudan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 chamberlin 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 Robert Hood to the crunk 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Matthew Halsall,
Peter and Kerry,
The Neon Judgement,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Moss Icon,
The Mojo Men,
This Heat,
Shoche,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Suicide,
Newcleus,
Metal Thangz,
The Pretty Things,
Tom Boy,
the Soft Cell,
Lucky Dragons,
Section 25,
Agent Orange,
The Doobie Brothers,
Alice Coltrane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Royal Trux,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deepchord,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sällskapet,
Adolescents,
Electric Prunes,
EPMD,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Music Machine,
Ten City,
Lou Christie,
Subhumans,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeff Lynne,
The Angels of Light,
Letta Mbulu,
Barrington Levy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bill Wells,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Con Funk Shun,
Jacob Miller,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mr. Review,
B.T. Express,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sun City Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rosa Yemen,
Deakin,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.