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 Samoa and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Amazonics,
The Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Smoke,
Crash Course in Science,
Gichy Dan,
Max Romeo,
Amon Düül,
Jerry's Kids,
Camouflage,
June Days,
The Misunderstood,
Aloha Tigers,
Lalann,
AZ,
Blossom Toes,
Deadbeat,
Section 25,
Wolf Eyes,
Fat Boys,
The Last Poets,
Amon Düül II,
Lungfish,
Juan Atkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scientists,
Mad Mike,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Unrelated Segments,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeff Mills,
Ronan,
Con Funk Shun,
The Offenders,
the Association,
The Electric Prunes,
The Red Krayola,
The Techniques,
Agent Orange,
Easy Going,
Hashim,
Lou Reed,
The Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
World's Most,
The Zeros,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
Wasted Youth,
Yazoo,
Depeche Mode,
Roy Ayers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The New Christs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Spoonie Gee,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.