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 Ireland and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fugs to the grime 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mummies,
Altered Images,
The Move,
Easy Going,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Red Krayola,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bauhaus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barry Ungar,
The Sonics,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crash Course in Science,
Rekid,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pierre Henry,
Average White Band,
Metal Thangz,
Brand Nubian,
The Cowsills,
Alice Coltrane,
Parry Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
DNA,
Terrestrial Tones,
Symarip,
The Slackers,
Qualms,
Cecil Taylor,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
Cluster,
Byron Stingily,
Sonic Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Hood,
Roger Hodgson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ohio Players,
Letta Mbulu,
The Happenings,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hoover,
Public Enemy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kings Of Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Whodini,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jacob Miller,
Deadbeat,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Avey Tare,
Country Teasers,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.