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 Bahrain and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Ken Boothe to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Josef K,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pussy Galore,
Con Funk Shun,
H. Thieme,
James White and The Blacks,
Grauzone,
Darondo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Can,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
Buzzcocks,
Rotary Connection,
Jacob Miller,
Inner City,
Funkadelic,
Khruangbin,
Stetsasonic,
Marvin Gaye,
Average White Band,
Black Bananas,
Kayak,
Bootsy Collins,
The Raincoats,
Crooked Eye,
Boogie Down Productions,
Flash Fearless,
Silicon Teens,
The Residents,
Eric Copeland,
Bronski Beat,
Pulsallama,
T.S.O.L.,
Wasted Youth,
Joy Division,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minny Pops,
Ralphi Rosario,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Vainqueur,
Yellowson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scientists,
Peter and Kerry,
Drexciya,
Unwound,
Swans,
Bill Wells,
The Moleskins,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Almond,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Names,
D'Angelo,
Sight & Sound,
Faust,
Mission of Burma,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sällskapet,
Roxy Music,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.