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 Zambia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Little Man 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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
One Last Wish,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scan 7,
Panda Bear,
The Invisible,
Jandek,
The Index,
The Human League,
Radio Birdman,
Angry Samoans,
T.S.O.L.,
Carl Craig,
Byron Stingily,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Excepter,
Accadde A,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Henry Cow,
Barbara Tucker,
Zapp,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Walker Brothers,
Trumans Water,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sällskapet,
Juan Atkins,
Al Stewart,
Country Teasers,
Bill Wells,
The Names,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Symarip,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Chris & Cosey,
Dark Day,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bob Dylan,
Stereo Dub,
Tubeway Army,
The Residents,
Sonny Sharrock,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
D'Angelo,
Rapeman,
Aaron Thompson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Masters at Work,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chrome,
Brick,
Dennis Brown,
Swans,
Dead Boys,
Soul II Soul,
Rakim,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.