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 India and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Erykah Badu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Harry Pussy,
B.T. Express,
Mary Jane Girls,
Whodini,
48th St. Collective,
Liliput,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Sällskapet,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Procol Harum,
The Wake,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
June of 44,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ponytail,
Blossom Toes,
The Beau Brummels,
Sixth Finger,
The Standells,
Eddi Front,
Kool Moe Dee,
Robert Wyatt,
The Stooges,
The Neon Judgement,
ABC,
Livin' Joy,
Anthony Braxton,
Slick Rick,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-102,
The Move,
Marvin Gaye,
Tubeway Army,
Qualms,
Graham Central Station,
Cameo,
Camouflage,
Das Ding,
The Selecter,
The Slits,
The Electric Prunes,
The Toasters,
Black Bananas,
Yazoo,
Spoonie Gee,
Crooked Eye,
Interpol,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Delta 5,
The Sonics,
Simply Red,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fuzztones,
Johnny Osbourne,
Prince Buster,
Kenny Larkin,
Pole,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.