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 Swaziland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
Mad Mike,
Lou Christie,
Amon Düül,
The Monks,
The Stooges,
Bob Dylan,
Motorama,
Boz Scaggs,
Scan 7,
Howard Jones,
Gabor Szabo,
Jacob Miller,
Donald Byrd,
The Blues Magoos,
Donny Hathaway,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Amazonics,
Idris Muhammad,
FM Einheit,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swans,
Quadrant,
Television Personalities,
Accadde A,
ABC,
Kevin Saunderson,
LL Cool J,
Soft Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
UT,
David McCallum,
Hashim,
Mark Hollis,
Unwound,
Electric Prunes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
The Gladiators,
Susan Cadogan,
Althea and Donna,
Joy Division,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Cowsills,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bush Tetras,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nik Kershaw,
Suicide,
Alton Ellis,
The Angels of Light,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Moby Grape,
Soft Cell,
Eli Mardock,
Warsaw,
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.