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 South Africa and from Tehran.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in 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 Donald Byrd to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Funky Four + One,
Sun Ra,
Ludus,
Khruangbin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Image Ltd.,
Camouflage,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Urselle,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Duran Duran,
Matthew Bourne,
Moss Icon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Crash Course in Science,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Todd Rundgren,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Holt,
The Gories,
Swans,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
DJ Sneak,
Minutemen,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cecil Taylor,
Rod Modell,
Maurizio,
U.S. Maple,
Panda Bear,
Colin Newman,
The Seeds,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Saints,
Big Daddy Kane,
Simply Red,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Agitation Free,
Radio Birdman,
Neu!,
Lou Reed,
8 Eyed Spy,
Anakelly,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric Dolphy,
Underground Resistance,
Soft Cell,
Technova,
Parry Music,
PIL,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Lynne,
The Durutti Column,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.