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 Haiti and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kerri Chandler to the disco 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Cameo,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fuzztones,
Lou Christie,
Camouflage,
John Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeff Mills,
Pylon,
The Blackbyrds,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
China Crisis,
Rod Modell,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül II,
Fatback Band,
L. Decosne,
Crime,
These Immortal Souls,
The Martian,
Big Daddy Kane,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric Copeland,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brand Nubian,
Lee Hazlewood,
Alton Ellis,
T.S.O.L.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bauhaus,
The Knickerbockers,
X-102,
Accadde A,
Q and Not U,
48th St. Collective,
Negative Approach,
Jawbox,
John Foxx,
Stiv Bators,
Make Up,
Con Funk Shun,
Mad Mike,
Jeff Lynne,
Ludus,
Los Fastidios,
The Cure,
Brothers Johnson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Albert Ayler,
Scientists,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Popol Vuh,
Bobby Womack,
Bootsy Collins,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.