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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 snare 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 Rekid to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fugs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nico,
Faust,
The Doors,
Hashim,
Arab on Radar,
The Count Five,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang Green,
10cc,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Letta Mbulu,
Surgeon,
Basic Channel,
Grauzone,
Das Ding,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Index,
Sällskapet,
Morten Harket,
The Pretty Things,
F. McDonald,
Marine Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Görl,
Kurtis Blow,
Judy Mowatt,
Rufus Thomas,
Sixth Finger,
Pagans,
Suburban Knight,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
The Fire Engines,
The Gap Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Chris Corsano,
Scientists,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Young Rascals,
UT,
Prince Buster,
Ronnie Foster,
The Raincoats,
Davy DMX,
Joey Negro,
Magazine,
the Sonics,
Siglo XX,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Massinfluence,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hasil Adkins,
Girls At Our Best!,
Amazonics,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.