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 Korea South and from London.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Juan Atkins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Harry Pussy,
Vainqueur,
Banda Bassotti,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Beau Brummels,
Bauhaus,
Jerry's Kids,
One Last Wish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David McCallum,
Mad Mike,
Skriet,
Cameo,
Bush Tetras,
Maurizio,
Robert Hood,
The Walker Brothers,
Guru Guru,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gabor Szabo,
Outsiders,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pussy Galore,
Saccharine Trust,
Q and Not U,
Ultra Naté,
B.T. Express,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Aswad,
The New Christs,
Schoolly D,
The Sonics,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rotary Connection,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Stooges,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bad Manners,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Doors,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tommy Roe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Audionom,
The Fire Engines,
Joy Division,
Slave,
The Black Dice,
Sun Ra,
Todd Rundgren,
Scott Walker,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.