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 Pakistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Frankie Knuckles to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Bluetip,
Y Pants,
Gang Starr,
Crooked Eye,
the Bar-Kays,
Joe Finger,
Eurythmics,
Lightning Bolt,
Grey Daturas,
Alice Coltrane,
The Martian,
Jandek,
Sparks,
Severed Heads,
Leonard Cohen,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Average White Band,
The Leaves,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pussy Galore,
Organ,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aswad,
Peter and Kerry,
The Invisible,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Archie Shepp,
Brothers Johnson,
Minutemen,
Yusef Lateef,
Livin' Joy,
Fad Gadget,
Maleditus Sound,
The Barracudas,
Aloha Tigers,
Scientists,
The Pop Group,
Terrestrial Tones,
Letta Mbulu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sonny Sharrock,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Slits,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Walker Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
The Blackbyrds,
The Black Dice,
Jeff Mills,
Excepter,
Pet Shop Boys,
Alphaville,
Deadbeat,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pantaleimon,
Eden Ahbez,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.