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 Mongolia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Fela Kuti to the crunk 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Fire Engines,
Brand Nubian,
Cymande,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amon Düül,
Scott Walker,
Arab on Radar,
Sixth Finger,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tres Demented,
Black Sheep,
Yellowson,
Jerry's Kids,
Half Japanese,
Simply Red,
Ohio Players,
Fatback Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stetsasonic,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultravox,
Fugazi,
The Invisible,
The Buckinghams,
The Remains,
Sam Rivers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Essential Logic,
Idris Muhammad,
Shuggie Otis,
The Moleskins,
Joe Finger,
Don Cherry,
Magma,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Joyce Sims,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cameo,
Tommy Roe,
Dawn Penn,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun Ra,
Albert Ayler,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Popol Vuh,
Malaria!,
Ice-T,
Y Pants,
Blake Baxter,
Anakelly,
Derrick Morgan,
AZ,
Faraquet,
Ronnie Foster,
Mandrill,
X-102,
Mars,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.