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 San Marino and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Moebius,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-102,
Kurtis Blow,
Slick Rick,
Angry Samoans,
Ponytail,
Groovy Waters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Deadbeat,
Cheater Slicks,
Byron Stingily,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
UT,
Boredoms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Todd Terry,
Smog,
The Fuzztones,
Dennis Brown,
Crispian St. Peters,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
the Slits,
Gastr Del Sol,
Donald Byrd,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Bananas,
Scratch Acid,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gap Band,
The Cowsills,
Glenn Branca,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Bar-Kays,
Piero Umiliani,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun City Girls,
China Crisis,
The Walker Brothers,
Newcleus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skriet,
Nils Olav,
Drexciya,
Ultra Naté,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crime,
Tubeway Army,
Grauzone,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Y Pants,
L. Decosne,
Matthew Bourne,
Neil Young,
Joy Division,
Scientists,
Echospace,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Animal Collective,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.