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 Bolivia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 Youth Brigade to the disco 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Make Up,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Bourne,
Fela Kuti,
Erykah Badu,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Steve Hackett,
Camouflage,
Barry Ungar,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Almond,
John Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
Underground Resistance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Angels of Light,
Fifty Foot Hose,
JFA,
the Sonics,
Eve St. Jones,
kango's stein massive,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joey Negro,
Moby Grape,
Supertramp,
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Interpol,
Barbara Tucker,
Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
Los Fastidios,
The Red Krayola,
Yazoo,
The Techniques,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Holt,
Quantec,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cure,
Jacob Miller,
The Smiths,
The Gladiators,
The Associates,
Crooked Eye,
Sun Ra,
Cameo,
The Victims,
Silicon Teens,
The Selecter,
Quando Quango,
Cal Tjader,
Jacques Brel,
Kerri Chandler,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Starr,
Rod Modell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.