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 Congo and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 The J.B.'s to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warren Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Mark Hollis,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
Albert Ayler,
Tubeway Army,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mummies,
Sonic Youth,
Bobby Sherman,
Blancmange,
Slave,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DJ Sneak,
Scott Walker,
The Modern Lovers,
Rakim,
Kayak,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skarface,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Pus,
The Last Poets,
The Angels of Light,
The Selecter,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smoke,
Arthur Verocai,
Pulsallama,
Make Up,
Hot Snakes,
James White and The Blacks,
Sex Pistols,
Davy DMX,
The Fuzztones,
Mad Mike,
The Fire Engines,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Offenders,
Ituana,
cv313,
Johnny Clarke,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sun City Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Minny Pops,
Sixth Finger,
Crash Course in Science,
Icehouse,
Mission of Burma,
Bang On A Can,
Derrick Morgan,
ABC,
Danielle Patucci,
Procol Harum,
the Bar-Kays,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.