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 Georgia and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Theoretical Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Bob Dylan,
The Cowsills,
K-Klass,
Flipper,
Ludus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Slick Rick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yusef Lateef,
Cybotron,
The Martian,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Byron Stingily,
The Invisible,
Spandau Ballet,
Howard Jones,
Lindisfarne,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Foxx,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roxy Music,
Sister Nancy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lakeside,
Fluxion,
The Slits,
Arab on Radar,
Blancmange,
New York Dolls,
T. Rex,
KRS-One,
Dead Boys,
Scan 7,
Accadde A,
Ponytail,
Banda Bassotti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Surgeon,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Chris Corsano,
The Seeds,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Busters,
Jandek,
Chrome,
Throbbing Gristle,
E-Dancer,
Unwound,
Peter & Gordon,
The Victims,
DJ Style,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.