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 Rwanda and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet 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 Outsiders to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
John Holt,
Heaven 17,
Aural Exciters,
Crooked Eye,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alton Ellis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Litter,
the Normal,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Matthew Bourne,
The Velvet Underground,
Eric Dolphy,
Stereo Dub,
48th St. Collective,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Andrew Hill,
Urselle,
The Grass Roots,
Terry Callier,
Susan Cadogan,
Groovy Waters,
Brass Construction,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Henry Cow,
Malaria!,
cv313,
H. Thieme,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Foxx,
the Association,
Gregory Isaacs,
Shuggie Otis,
Easy Going,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marine Girls,
World's Most,
Mars,
Amon Düül,
The Barracudas,
Lou Reed,
T. Rex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Agitation Free,
Schoolly D,
Eden Ahbez,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Pus,
Arthur Verocai,
Procol Harum,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cymande,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.