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 Niger and from Accra.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gang Starr to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
New York Dolls,
the Normal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Hardrive,
Boogie Down Productions,
Henry Cow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Depeche Mode,
The Music Machine,
Pagans,
E-Dancer,
The Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Newcleus,
Organ,
Connie Case,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Busters,
Rites of Spring,
The Toasters,
Joe Finger,
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
Pierre Henry,
Fela Kuti,
Magazine,
Robert Görl,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
MC5,
Half Japanese,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yaz,
Nico,
Prince Buster,
Patti Smith,
Inner City,
The Detroit Cobras,
Slave,
Morten Harket,
James White and The Blacks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Youth Brigade,
The New Christs,
Von Mondo,
Byron Stingily,
Roy Ayers,
Johnny Clarke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eric Dolphy,
The Index,
These Immortal Souls,
Simply Red,
JFA,
The Mojo Men,
Warren Ellis,
Joy Division,
Sixth Finger,
Interpol,
Sarah Menescal,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.