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 Singapore and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare 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 Underground Resistance to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Y Pants,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Birthday Party,
Section 25,
ABC,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger,
Hardrive,
The Raincoats,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nils Olav,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
Television,
The Golliwogs,
Cameo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Monks,
PIL,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Reuben Wilson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David McCallum,
The Trojans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Severed Heads,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
In Retrospect,
The Wake,
Model 500,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doors,
The J.B.'s,
Intrusion,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rekid,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kayak,
Amon Düül II,
The Young Rascals,
Chris Corsano,
Peter & Gordon,
Mark Hollis,
The Martian,
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
U.S. Maple,
Sandy B,
Traffic Nightmare,
Franke,
F. McDonald,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minutemen,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.