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 Cameroon and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar 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 Pantaleimon to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a guitar 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 linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
The Grass Roots,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stiv Bators,
John Coltrane,
The Kinks,
Mark Hollis,
The Raincoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Severed Heads,
John Cale,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sight & Sound,
This Heat,
Glenn Branca,
Sparks,
Ronnie Foster,
Pussy Galore,
Los Fastidios,
48th St. Collective,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moby Grape,
Quadrant,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Faust,
Groovy Waters,
Cameo,
Pantytec,
Cluster,
Schoolly D,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Vogues,
DNA,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Swans,
Excepter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wings,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crash Course in Science,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
New Order,
The Moody Blues,
Roy Ayers,
The Pop Group,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sarah Menescal,
Porter Ricks,
Pantaleimon,
Qualms,
The New Christs,
Carl Craig,
Sugar Minott,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.