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 Nigeria 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the dance 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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Moon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Judy Mowatt,
Panda Bear,
Junior Murvin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova,
Television,
The Mojo Men,
Jimmy McGriff,
Terrestrial Tones,
Erykah Badu,
Jandek,
Hoover,
Josef K,
The Busters,
The Smoke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Althea and Donna,
The Detroit Cobras,
Carl Craig,
The Black Dice,
The Red Krayola,
Joey Negro,
Stiv Bators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris Corsano,
Dark Day,
Prince Buster,
Skriet,
Negative Approach,
Blake Baxter,
Cheater Slicks,
Fatback Band,
The United States of America,
John Foxx,
Talk Talk,
Fear,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marine Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
Stetsasonic,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Boz Scaggs,
the Swans,
Slick Rick,
Blossom Toes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Robert Görl,
Deadbeat,
Cymande,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Malaria!,
Derrick May,
Nico,
Scion,
Visage,
Gang Starr,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.