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 Nigeria and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Last Poets to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
a-ha,
Eve St. Jones,
Bob Dylan,
Section 25,
The Dead C,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Bluetip,
Khruangbin,
The Martian,
David Axelrod,
Minutemen,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
Qualms,
48th St. Collective,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Masters at Work,
Donald Byrd,
Funkadelic,
La Düsseldorf,
Main Source,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Count Five,
Terry Callier,
June of 44,
Gastr Del Sol,
New York Dolls,
The Gories,
Organ,
The Busters,
Sparks,
The Misunderstood,
Pere Ubu,
Outsiders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arcadia,
Aswad,
Pierre Henry,
Hoover,
Ultravox,
Sonny Sharrock,
Supertramp,
The Index,
Junior Murvin,
The Buckinghams,
Sonic Youth,
Heaven 17,
Negative Approach,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Los Fastidios,
Big Daddy Kane,
Harmonia,
JFA,
The Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Wally Richardson,
The Cramps,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.