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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the funk 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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Wings,
Popol Vuh,
Judy Mowatt,
Fatback Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Can,
Thompson Twins,
New York Dolls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Magazine,
Agent Orange,
Rekid,
Man Parrish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Section 25,
Bobby Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Mandrill,
Technova,
The Barracudas,
The Dirtbombs,
Symarip,
Minutemen,
Neil Young,
Masters at Work,
Tom Boy,
T. Rex,
Rufus Thomas,
Juan Atkins,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pylon,
The Pop Group,
Deepchord,
Bush Tetras,
Joy Division,
Warren Ellis,
Dark Day,
Iggy Pop,
Qualms,
the Sonics,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hardrive,
The Evens,
Bobby Womack,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fluxion,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Outsiders,
Fela Kuti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Chris Corsano,
Moss Icon,
Japan,
Fat Boys,
Marmalade,
Theoretical Girls,
Liliput,
Rakim,
The Red Krayola,
Boredoms,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.