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 India and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 Curtis Mayfield to the disco 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Skriet,
Minnie Riperton,
Soul II Soul,
Pagans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Basic Channel,
The Sound,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Robert Wyatt,
Ponytail,
ABC,
Junior Murvin,
L. Decosne,
The Saints,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Neon Judgement,
Flipper,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott Heron,
Interpol,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Count Five,
June Days,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
The Electric Prunes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Icehouse,
Porter Ricks,
Roxy Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brothers Johnson,
New York Dolls,
Donald Byrd,
Nik Kershaw,
Groovy Waters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bill Wells,
Prince Buster,
The Happenings,
K-Klass,
CMW,
Section 25,
Warren Ellis,
Make Up,
Michelle Simonal,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Soft Cell,
Soft Cell,
Skaos,
Howard Jones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hoover,
John Cale,
Lucky Dragons,
Rites of Spring,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.