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 Malta and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Techniques,
Aural Exciters,
John Lydon,
X-102,
The Mummies,
T. Rex,
Lakeside,
Y Pants,
FM Einheit,
La Düsseldorf,
Quantec,
Babytalk,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Flamin' Groovies,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Toasters,
Robert Hood,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oneida,
Monolake,
Sixth Finger,
The Dead C,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Freddie Wadling,
Saccharine Trust,
Harry Pussy,
Eric Dolphy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Porter Ricks,
Spoonie Gee,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Remains,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Skarface,
Can,
Tres Demented,
Sonny Sharrock,
Little Man,
Derrick Morgan,
In Retrospect,
Ponytail,
Magma,
Minutemen,
Surgeon,
Animal Collective,
Todd Terry,
Barry Ungar,
Trumans Water,
Fat Boys,
Roxy Music,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.