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 Djibouti and from Manchester.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare 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 Leaves to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
The Busters,
B.T. Express,
The Invisible,
Kerri Chandler,
The Offenders,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Music Machine,
The American Breed,
The Fugs,
Robert Görl,
Graham Central Station,
Eve St. Jones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alison Limerick,
Sugar Minott,
The Birthday Party,
Warren Ellis,
Vainqueur,
Joyce Sims,
The Red Krayola,
Inner City,
New Order,
Darondo,
Ornette Coleman,
Crime,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Niagra,
Peter & Gordon,
Roger Hodgson,
David McCallum,
Sound Behaviour,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
Radio Birdman,
Basic Channel,
Anthony Braxton,
New York Dolls,
Scratch Acid,
Whodini,
The Velvet Underground,
Mars,
The Fortunes,
Groovy Waters,
Grey Daturas,
June of 44,
Masters at Work,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Brand Nubian,
Gastr Del Sol,
Popol Vuh,
F. McDonald,
Make Up,
Banda Bassotti,
Royal Trux,
Lalann,
Smog,
John Holt,
The Beau Brummels,
Ohio Players,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.