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 Philippines and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 A Certain Ratio to the rock 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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Dark Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
The Young Rascals,
the Germs,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
The Martian,
Funkadelic,
Stereo Dub,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang Green,
Groovy Waters,
Byron Stingily,
Jeru the Damaja,
Darondo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deakin,
The Skatalites,
Soft Cell,
Cybotron,
Kas Product,
Cheater Slicks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fat Boys,
Rakim,
The Five Americans,
Qualms,
Trumans Water,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Tremeloes,
X-Ray Spex,
The Trojans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Oneida,
The Fuzztones,
Popol Vuh,
Con Funk Shun,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Neon Judgement,
Joey Negro,
June of 44,
X-102,
This Heat,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skarface,
Rapeman,
Barrington Levy,
Prince Buster,
KRS-One,
Donald Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.