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 Benin and from Bologna.
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 Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Electric Prunes to the funk 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Adolescents,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Andrew Hill,
Scott Walker,
The Cramps,
Parry Music,
Roy Ayers,
Althea and Donna,
Sparks,
The Gories,
AZ,
Banda Bassotti,
Chrome,
Joe Smooth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mission of Burma,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
48th St. Collective,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Moon,
Metal Thangz,
Prince Buster,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Isaac Hayes,
Bush Tetras,
Aural Exciters,
Buzzcocks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pole,
the Slits,
Funky Four + One,
Crime,
David Bowie,
Vainqueur,
The Star Department,
Chris & Cosey,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Pus,
Pere Ubu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Desert Stars,
Cameo,
Quantec,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Soulsonic Force,
Maurizio,
Scientists,
The Golliwogs,
Avey Tare,
Rod Modell,
kango's stein massive,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
June of 44,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.