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 Bahamas and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 D'Angelo to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scan 7,
Banda Bassotti,
Excepter,
Donald Byrd,
The Moleskins,
Eric Copeland,
Rakim,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deakin,
the Bar-Kays,
the Association,
Zapp,
Arab on Radar,
Ludus,
Black Sheep,
Inner City,
Funkadelic,
Bizarre Inc.,
Khruangbin,
Warsaw,
The Toasters,
PIL,
Delon & Dalcan,
June Days,
Flash Fearless,
Soulsonic Force,
The Leaves,
Bad Manners,
Index,
Siglo XX,
Bill Near,
B.T. Express,
Visage,
Adolescents,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Saints,
Fela Kuti,
Piero Umiliani,
Rosa Yemen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ken Boothe,
Symarip,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Soft Cell,
Fat Boys,
The Gun Club,
Janne Schatter,
Fugazi,
Black Moon,
Fatback Band,
Supertramp,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Oneida,
Sound Behaviour,
The Velvet Underground,
Spoonie Gee,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Amon Düül II,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.