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 Dominica and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grime 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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Fear,
the Slits,
Judy Mowatt,
Wings,
Duran Duran,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Kurtis Blow,
The Young Rascals,
Pulsallama,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bad Manners,
Thee Headcoats,
E-Dancer,
Freddie Wadling,
The Residents,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cybotron,
John Lydon,
Brand Nubian,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Public Enemy,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
This Heat,
Altered Images,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
Ituana,
Ossler,
It's A Beautiful Day,
X-Ray Spex,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Birthday Party,
Sound Behaviour,
The Victims,
Moss Icon,
Michelle Simonal,
The Motions,
Black Bananas,
Black Pus,
Sex Pistols,
Kayak,
World's Most,
The Barracudas,
Hoover,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marvin Gaye,
Aloha Tigers,
Magma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camberwell Now,
Godley & Creme,
The Fortunes,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.