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 Macedonia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator 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 Brothers Johnson to the jazz 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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
The Neon Judgement,
Juan Atkins,
Monks,
Bill Wells,
Barry Ungar,
Suicide,
The Tremeloes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nirvana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kas Product,
Cluster,
the Swans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Subhumans,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang Green,
Bobby Womack,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Roxy Music,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Albert Ayler,
LL Cool J,
Eve St. Jones,
a-ha,
Yaz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Graham Central Station,
Brass Construction,
Nick Fraelich,
The Birthday Party,
Main Source,
Amazonics,
Sam Rivers,
Khruangbin,
The Gap Band,
Massinfluence,
Judy Mowatt,
Severed Heads,
Skriet,
Drexciya,
Blancmange,
Organ,
Agitation Free,
The Offenders,
Rotary Connection,
Spandau Ballet,
Alice Coltrane,
Vladislav Delay,
Stereo Dub,
Letta Mbulu,
Das Ding,
Funky Four + One,
The Stooges,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
MDC,
Yellowson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.