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 France and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
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 harpsichord 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 Eric B and Rakim to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
June of 44,
Bobby Womack,
Stiv Bators,
Ultravox,
Amon Düül,
10cc,
Soul II Soul,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Walker Brothers,
Piero Umiliani,
Heaven 17,
Anakelly,
John Coltrane,
Nico,
Harmonia,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Youth Brigade,
Wings,
Lungfish,
Deadbeat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Barracudas,
Jerry's Kids,
The Happenings,
Altered Images,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harry Pussy,
The Martian,
Pantaleimon,
Gang Green,
The Sisters of Mercy,
ABC,
Aaron Thompson,
Accadde A,
Todd Terry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Moss Icon,
Deepchord,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
The Cure,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fatback Band,
Deakin,
Electric Prunes,
Television Personalities,
the Association,
The Fugs,
The Black Dice,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
Gregory Isaacs,
Anthony Braxton,
The Trojans,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.