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 Saudi Arabia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Holger Czukay 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 Sister Nancy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Busters,
Funky Four + One,
John Lydon,
Nation of Ulysses,
David Bowie,
Throbbing Gristle,
Infiniti,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Grass Roots,
Joyce Sims,
Bob Dylan,
Sonny Sharrock,
JFA,
Yusef Lateef,
Ken Boothe,
Altered Images,
Los Fastidios,
The Young Rascals,
The Music Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
The Divine Comedy,
Sonic Youth,
Mars,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Slave,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash,
Television Personalities,
ABC,
Lightning Bolt,
The Gladiators,
OOIOO,
The Cure,
Suicide,
The Smiths,
Desert Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Hood,
Young Marble Giants,
Chris Corsano,
Girls At Our Best!,
Visage,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pere Ubu,
Albert Ayler,
UT,
Cymande,
Essential Logic,
DNA,
F. McDonald,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
The Fortunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Boogie Down Productions,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun City Girls,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.