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 Czech Republic and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Mad Mike,
Monolake,
Metal Thangz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pulsallama,
World's Most,
Aswad,
The Pop Group,
The Monks,
Connie Case,
DJ Style,
Bronski Beat,
Cymande,
Wings,
Tomorrow,
The Cramps,
The Wake,
Desert Stars,
Sonic Youth,
Moebius,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Anthony Braxton,
The Buckinghams,
Brick,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moss Icon,
Cheater Slicks,
the Soft Cell,
Althea and Donna,
John Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Alice Coltrane,
Rosa Yemen,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cybotron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
David Bowie,
Jawbox,
The Mummies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marc Almond,
The Alarm Clocks,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ken Boothe,
The Skatalites,
Television,
Pantytec,
Bush Tetras,
Section 25,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Shuggie Otis,
Sarah Menescal,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.