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 Dominica and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Crash Course in Science to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Suicide,
The New Christs,
Black Sheep,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Dolphy,
Brand Nubian,
The Alarm Clocks,
Delta 5,
Carl Craig,
The Remains,
Lyres,
These Immortal Souls,
The Smiths,
EPMD,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
New York Dolls,
Livin' Joy,
Monolake,
The Index,
Audionom,
Amon Düül,
Gang Gang Dance,
Yellowson,
Parry Music,
Archie Shepp,
Eli Mardock,
The Walker Brothers,
Depeche Mode,
T.S.O.L.,
Maurizio,
Ken Boothe,
Stereo Dub,
Barrington Levy,
Pantaleimon,
The Residents,
Rosa Yemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Schoolly D,
B.T. Express,
Jimmy McGriff,
The United States of America,
Scion,
Warsaw,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Style,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Interpol,
Don Cherry,
The Gap Band,
Jacob Miller,
Skriet,
Faraquet,
Camouflage,
Crooked Eye,
Todd Terry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Anakelly,
Mandrill,
The Dead C,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.