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 Belgium and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 X-Ray Spex to the funk 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Public Enemy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Womack,
The Moody Blues,
Jerry Gold Smith,
EPMD,
Nik Kershaw,
Freddie Wadling,
the Association,
Joe Smooth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Urselle,
Kurtis Blow,
Mad Mike,
The Beau Brummels,
Tom Boy,
Toni Rubio,
Cluster,
Quando Quango,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Theoretical Girls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
Kas Product,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Leonard Cohen,
Cymande,
Royal Trux,
the Soft Cell,
Schoolly D,
Ossler,
Electric Prunes,
Joey Negro,
The Young Rascals,
Oneida,
The Fortunes,
Inner City,
The Durutti Column,
Lakeside,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultravox,
Brick,
Malaria!,
Junior Murvin,
ABBA,
Ohio Players,
Nas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Moebius,
The Trojans,
Todd Terry,
Shuggie Otis,
Fela Kuti,
Traffic Nightmare,
Con Funk Shun,
Lucky Dragons,
Faraquet,
MDC,
Donny Hathaway,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.