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 Guinea and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gastr Del Sol to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
The Slits,
Stereo Dub,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bush Tetras,
Model 500,
Funkadelic,
The Walker Brothers,
Niagra,
Dawn Penn,
Brothers Johnson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ken Boothe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Simply Red,
The Last Poets,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nils Olav,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Prunes,
Whodini,
E-Dancer,
World's Most,
Tom Boy,
Outsiders,
The Kinks,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
The Zeros,
Tim Buckley,
The New Christs,
Newcleus,
Alphaville,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pretty Things,
Althea and Donna,
T.S.O.L.,
Sonic Youth,
Donald Byrd,
The United States of America,
Nirvana,
Erykah Badu,
One Last Wish,
The Toasters,
Mantronix,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mission of Burma,
Con Funk Shun,
Idris Muhammad,
The Litter,
Smog,
David McCallum,
Toni Rubio,
Silicon Teens,
Rosa Yemen,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mr. Review,
John Coltrane,
Morten Harket,
Moss Icon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.