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 Equatorial Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lakeside to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Smooth,
D'Angelo,
Cheater Slicks,
The Music Machine,
The Golliwogs,
One Last Wish,
Hoover,
Curtis Mayfield,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Model 500,
Terry Callier,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Black Pus,
Mo-Dettes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Index,
David Axelrod,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soft Machine,
The Gun Club,
Fugazi,
Peter & Gordon,
Ponytail,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bobby Womack,
Flipper,
Freddie Wadling,
10cc,
Qualms,
Jawbox,
Parry Music,
Junior Murvin,
Wally Richardson,
Das Ding,
Delta 5,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scrapy,
Johnny Clarke,
Carl Craig,
Subhumans,
Underground Resistance,
Bronski Beat,
The Fall,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Animal Collective,
Rufus Thomas,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deepchord,
Vladislav Delay,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crash Course in Science,
CMW,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Maleditus Sound,
The Leaves,
The Victims,
the Germs,
LL Cool J,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.