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 Lithuania and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The J.B.'s to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Buckinghams,
Deadbeat,
cv313,
James White and The Blacks,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
E-Dancer,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fall,
Clear Light,
Tres Demented,
The Slits,
Monks,
The Dead C,
DJ Style,
John Lydon,
The Litter,
Outsiders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Country Teasers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moody Blues,
X-Ray Spex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Misunderstood,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Television Personalities,
Anakelly,
Ituana,
DNA,
Bang On A Can,
X-101,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
Make Up,
The Gun Club,
Erykah Badu,
Sound Behaviour,
Grandmaster Flash,
Suburban Knight,
Panda Bear,
Cluster,
Lindisfarne,
David Axelrod,
Colin Newman,
Icehouse,
Barrington Levy,
Max Romeo,
The Music Machine,
Rufus Thomas,
Faraquet,
48th St. Collective,
Kayak,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slackers,
Public Enemy,
Pantytec,
Sly & The Family Stone,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.