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 China and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the grime 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
D'Angelo,
DNA,
Unrelated Segments,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
John Coltrane,
Swell Maps,
Junior Murvin,
The Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Amon Düül,
Royal Trux,
Bootsy Collins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
One Last Wish,
Wire,
The Dirtbombs,
Camberwell Now,
The Misunderstood,
The Knickerbockers,
Motorama,
Jacob Miller,
Harry Pussy,
Gang of Four,
Idris Muhammad,
Desert Stars,
Excepter,
Japan,
Gabor Szabo,
Pole,
Vladislav Delay,
Flash Fearless,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Index,
The United States of America,
The Smoke,
The Names,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lucky Dragons,
Jesper Dahlback,
Outsiders,
Nico,
Essential Logic,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kerri Chandler,
Peter and Kerry,
Yusef Lateef,
Average White Band,
Davy DMX,
Matthew Halsall,
Franke,
Goldenarms,
Erasure,
Minnie Riperton,
Second Layer,
Con Funk Shun,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.