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 Solomon Islands and from Lagos.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Beau Brummels to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
The Kinks,
Glenn Branca,
John Foxx,
Ice-T,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Scientists,
Bush Tetras,
Archie Shepp,
The Music Machine,
Pylon,
Bronski Beat,
Young Marble Giants,
Derrick May,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Q and Not U,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grauzone,
Peter & Gordon,
Don Cherry,
Todd Terry,
Boz Scaggs,
K-Klass,
Black Sheep,
Dual Sessions,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fugazi,
The Martian,
Delta 5,
Avey Tare,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rosa Yemen,
Ohio Players,
Jacques Brel,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
Letta Mbulu,
Outsiders,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vladislav Delay,
Scrapy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donny Hathaway,
Alton Ellis,
Infiniti,
Wire,
Harpers Bizarre,
Negative Approach,
Cal Tjader,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Starr,
Sixth Finger,
Eurythmics,
Junior Murvin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.