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 India and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flesh Eaters to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Raincoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
a-ha,
Mary Jane Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Mark Hollis,
Jawbox,
Cymande,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Inner City,
Matthew Halsall,
ABBA,
Icehouse,
Black Bananas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gabor Szabo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kayak,
John Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
Massinfluence,
Deadbeat,
Mad Mike,
Fela Kuti,
Pagans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mandrill,
Dead Boys,
Slick Rick,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
The Seeds,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eric Copeland,
Underground Resistance,
Swell Maps,
Technova,
Erykah Badu,
Amon Düül II,
EPMD,
Arab on Radar,
Blossom Toes,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter,
The Blackbyrds,
The Young Rascals,
Boogie Down Productions,
Urselle,
Don Cherry,
Oneida,
Warren Ellis,
The Index,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hardrive,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.