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 Lesotho and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Niagra to the rap 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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Sugar Minott,
Reuben Wilson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
R.M.O.,
Scrapy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Slackers,
The Stooges,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Reagan Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Agent Orange,
The Slits,
The Misunderstood,
Ten City,
The Fuzztones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nico,
the Soft Cell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Green,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cowsills,
Aswad,
Rapeman,
Arthur Verocai,
World's Most,
kango's stein massive,
Bauhaus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lyres,
Connie Case,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Joyce Sims,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sixth Finger,
Rites of Spring,
Aural Exciters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bluetip,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Vogues,
Nick Fraelich,
X-102,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Audionom,
Sex Pistols,
Dorothy Ashby,
Echospace,
Glenn Branca,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Hood,
Lightning Bolt,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.