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 Malaysia and from Jakarta.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Johnny Osbourne to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Pretty Things,
Sex Pistols,
Malaria!,
Cecil Taylor,
Alice Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joensuu 1685,
La Düsseldorf,
Fluxion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Star Department,
Tubeway Army,
Althea and Donna,
Parry Music,
OOIOO,
Excepter,
Stetsasonic,
R.M.O.,
New Order,
Bad Manners,
K-Klass,
Idris Muhammad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Porter Ricks,
The Slits,
48th St. Collective,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Searchers,
Boz Scaggs,
the Slits,
The Invisible,
Joe Finger,
Laurel Aitken,
Lucky Dragons,
Ludus,
Kurtis Blow,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Pus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Gladiators,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Index,
World's Most,
Monolake,
John Holt,
Barry Ungar,
Massinfluence,
Barbara Tucker,
Warren Ellis,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
ABBA,
MC5,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang Starr,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.