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 Mexico and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Selecter to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman 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?
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Visage,
The Gap Band,
Pulsallama,
Trumans Water,
Sonny Sharrock,
Banda Bassotti,
Johnny Clarke,
Boredoms,
Bad Manners,
Vladislav Delay,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yaz,
June of 44,
Matthew Halsall,
Roxy Music,
Carl Craig,
Stiv Bators,
Quando Quango,
Tommy Roe,
48th St. Collective,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
The Red Krayola,
Yazoo,
The Happenings,
Rosa Yemen,
Ohio Players,
Faust,
D'Angelo,
Hashim,
The Flesh Eaters,
Das Ding,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gichy Dan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scan 7,
Michelle Simonal,
Subhumans,
Kenny Larkin,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
China Crisis,
A Certain Ratio,
Janne Schatter,
Cecil Taylor,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Camouflage,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eden Ahbez,
Easy Going,
Bobbi Humphrey,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eric B and Rakim,
R.M.O.,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.