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 Ghana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gil Scott Heron to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
The Divine Comedy,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Reed,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Warsaw,
Von Mondo,
Section 25,
Mo-Dettes,
Talk Talk,
Junior Murvin,
Black Bananas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gong,
The Sisters of Mercy,
James White and The Blacks,
Sound Behaviour,
Amazonics,
Duran Duran,
Rhythm & Sound,
Khruangbin,
Franke,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Grass Roots,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fall,
Marshall Jefferson,
Yaz,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Funkadelic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Das Ding,
Nation of Ulysses,
One Last Wish,
Slick Rick,
Grey Daturas,
Chris Corsano,
Mark Hollis,
John Cale,
Spoonie Gee,
Drexciya,
Bill Near,
Gregory Isaacs,
Parry Music,
Jeff Lynne,
The Blackbyrds,
The Last Poets,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Neil Young,
cv313,
Excepter,
Metal Thangz,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Don Cherry,
Los Fastidios,
Derrick Morgan,
Colin Newman,
Rites of Spring,
Radio Birdman,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.