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 St Lucia 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Angry Samoans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator 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 sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Intrusion,
The Trojans,
The Move,
Connie Case,
Jimmy McGriff,
Duran Duran,
Faust,
48th St. Collective,
Barbara Tucker,
The Cowsills,
Sun Ra,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Essential Logic,
Second Layer,
Quando Quango,
Organ,
Charles Mingus,
Yazoo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bad Manners,
Lyres,
Slick Rick,
Sixth Finger,
Mary Jane Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Heaven 17,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Colin Newman,
Brick,
Bush Tetras,
The Modern Lovers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barrington Levy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Camouflage,
Main Source,
The Associates,
The Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Minny Pops,
Model 500,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mo-Dettes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skaos,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cluster,
Joey Negro,
Warsaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ice-T,
Hasil Adkins,
Nirvana,
Tubeway Army,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marmalade,
Donald Byrd,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.