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 Chile and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
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 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 Michael McDonald 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 Bush Tetras to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
The Litter,
Pantaleimon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eric Dolphy,
Boz Scaggs,
Suicide,
Main Source,
Thee Headcoats,
Yusef Lateef,
The Blues Magoos,
the Bar-Kays,
Pere Ubu,
Rufus Thomas,
The Busters,
Joyce Sims,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Harry Pussy,
Vladislav Delay,
Jacob Miller,
Peter and Kerry,
Flash Fearless,
Bobby Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
Y Pants,
X-101,
the Germs,
Au Pairs,
ABC,
Oneida,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Black Sheep,
Tom Boy,
AZ,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wasted Youth,
Slave,
Soft Machine,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pharoah Sanders,
Camberwell Now,
Leonard Cohen,
Pantytec,
Nils Olav,
The Index,
Black Moon,
Aswad,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
L. Decosne,
Avey Tare,
The Martian,
Fear,
Black Flag,
Gang Green,
Davy DMX,
Basic Channel,
A Certain Ratio,
Zapp,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.