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 Tajikistan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Skatalites to the grime 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Livin' Joy,
Alphaville,
Reuben Wilson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mantronix,
Glambeats Corp.,
Black Sheep,
Animal Collective,
The Doors,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scan 7,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Slits,
Chrome,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
Janne Schatter,
Josef K,
Alice Coltrane,
Unwound,
The Happenings,
Interpol,
Shuggie Otis,
Y Pants,
Dennis Brown,
Symarip,
Nils Olav,
Ornette Coleman,
The Standells,
Nico,
The Modern Lovers,
Stetsasonic,
Lou Reed,
Joy Division,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Warsaw,
Grandmaster Flash,
Aloha Tigers,
Robert Hood,
The Grass Roots,
The Gladiators,
Soft Cell,
Ronnie Foster,
Charles Mingus,
DNA,
Eve St. Jones,
Nick Fraelich,
Arab on Radar,
Barry Ungar,
Lightning Bolt,
Absolute Body Control,
Urselle,
Shoche,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aural Exciters,
The Pretty Things,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.