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 South Africa and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Skaos to the jazz 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Smiths,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lakeside,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marvin Gaye,
Faraquet,
Eve St. Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantytec,
The Trojans,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nik Kershaw,
Eurythmics,
Massinfluence,
Derrick Morgan,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Hill,
The Offenders,
Livin' Joy,
Robert Görl,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minnie Riperton,
X-102,
Clear Light,
Babytalk,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
Hashim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bauhaus,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Boz Scaggs,
Henry Cow,
Aaron Thompson,
The United States of America,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lucky Dragons,
The Real Kids,
Agitation Free,
Magazine,
Technova,
Buzzcocks,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
Swell Maps,
John Foxx,
Subhumans,
John Holt,
Second Layer,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.