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 Korea South and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Selecter to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Faust,
Saccharine Trust,
Toni Rubio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bill Wells,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ossler,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun City Girls,
Gichy Dan,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eden Ahbez,
The Victims,
Crooked Eye,
UT,
Delon & Dalcan,
Don Cherry,
The Skatalites,
Au Pairs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Talk Talk,
Terry Callier,
The Young Rascals,
Organ,
Sun Ra,
Little Man,
Pantytec,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Y Pants,
Alison Limerick,
Moebius,
One Last Wish,
Crispy Ambulance,
Monolake,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Radiopuhelimet,
Zero Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Warsaw,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
June of 44,
Nik Kershaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aaron Thompson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Swans,
H. Thieme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Second Layer,
K-Klass,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.