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 Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Smog to the punk 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Dawn Penn,
Bill Wells,
James White and The Blacks,
Bauhaus,
Gang Green,
Con Funk Shun,
The Evens,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Bananas,
Icehouse,
Aural Exciters,
Pussy Galore,
Sparks,
June of 44,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Michelle Simonal,
Country Teasers,
Nick Fraelich,
Faraquet,
The Electric Prunes,
Television,
Sonny Sharrock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sixth Finger,
MDC,
Saccharine Trust,
Agitation Free,
The Blackbyrds,
The Mojo Men,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Index,
Ice-T,
The Pretty Things,
Donny Hathaway,
Rotary Connection,
Sex Pistols,
Niagra,
Y Pants,
Ituana,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Modern Lovers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Isaac Hayes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Archie Shepp,
Mo-Dettes,
KRS-One,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
Harmonia,
Man Parrish,
Derrick May,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Pus,
Panda Bear,
Black Sheep,
The Smiths,
The Invisible,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.