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 Belize and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Yusef Lateef to the rap 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Desert Stars,
Deakin,
Gang Starr,
Stockholm Monsters,
Second Layer,
The Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Neon Judgement,
Davy DMX,
John Lydon,
Black Sheep,
Goldenarms,
The Buckinghams,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pierre Henry,
The Grass Roots,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aswad,
Marine Girls,
The Electric Prunes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fugazi,
Rakim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Womack,
The Golliwogs,
Malaria!,
Ponytail,
John Foxx,
Rapeman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Inner City,
The Slackers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Talk Talk,
Terry Callier,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Man Parrish,
Lalann,
Section 25,
a-ha,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Drexciya,
Ten City,
Flash Fearless,
Boredoms,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Trojans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Star Department,
Little Man,
Young Marble Giants,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.