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 Gambia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe 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 Yaz to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Cymande,
Marine Girls,
JFA,
The Beau Brummels,
Minny Pops,
Can,
Lightning Bolt,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fortunes,
New York Dolls,
The Angels of Light,
The Star Department,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brand Nubian,
The Victims,
Lindisfarne,
Lalann,
Camouflage,
The Motions,
L. Decosne,
June Days,
The Slits,
Ponytail,
Ossler,
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
The Move,
Scientists,
Zero Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Hood,
Spandau Ballet,
Motorama,
Minnie Riperton,
Charles Mingus,
The New Christs,
Khruangbin,
Wire,
Accadde A,
EPMD,
Soul II Soul,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Buzzcocks,
Wally Richardson,
Marcia Griffiths,
James White and The Blacks,
Stiv Bators,
World's Most,
Television Personalities,
Gong,
Toni Rubio,
Flash Fearless,
Arab on Radar,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Slave,
Quantec,
Scrapy,
Theoretical Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.