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 Czech Republic and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Don Cherry to the electroclash 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
The Slits,
Tom Boy,
Gastr Del Sol,
D'Angelo,
Bauhaus,
The Offenders,
Au Pairs,
Todd Terry,
Desert Stars,
Black Pus,
Severed Heads,
Fugazi,
Lucky Dragons,
Prince Buster,
Blossom Toes,
The Doors,
Heaven 17,
Ken Boothe,
Nas,
Reagan Youth,
June Days,
Cymande,
Althea and Donna,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mad Mike,
Silicon Teens,
Marc Almond,
Ornette Coleman,
Country Teasers,
Gong,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
MC5,
48th St. Collective,
Fear,
The Gap Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Deepchord,
Michelle Simonal,
Sällskapet,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boredoms,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ultimate Spinach,
CMW,
Drive Like Jehu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eric B and Rakim,
Motorama,
Joensuu 1685,
Quantec,
Mr. Review,
Skaos,
Sonic Youth,
John Holt,
Cluster,
Yaz,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.