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 New Zealand and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Anthony Braxton to the grunge 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Soul II Soul,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Flesh Eaters,
Second Layer,
Monks,
The Trojans,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Junior Murvin,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
Model 500,
The Shadows of Knight,
R.M.O.,
Laurel Aitken,
Subhumans,
Deepchord,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang of Four,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
E-Dancer,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sex Pistols,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxy Music,
Black Moon,
Sixth Finger,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stetsasonic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dark Day,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Minor Threat,
the Germs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Deadbeat,
Flipper,
Tubeway Army,
Inner City,
Lyres,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Man Parrish,
Pantaleimon,
Boredoms,
Alison Limerick,
Khruangbin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Carl Craig,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
Thompson Twins,
Mars,
Gang Starr,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.