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 Samoa and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grime 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Robert Wyatt,
Television,
Livin' Joy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mandrill,
DNA,
Zapp,
Guru Guru,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sugar Minott,
Accadde A,
Wally Richardson,
Roger Hodgson,
Soul II Soul,
Liliput,
Joey Negro,
Bluetip,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang Starr,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Coltrane,
Barbara Tucker,
Zero Boys,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bad Manners,
Gichy Dan,
The Remains,
Drexciya,
Qualms,
The Residents,
Funkadelic,
Icehouse,
Scion,
June Days,
Jandek,
Minor Threat,
Judy Mowatt,
B.T. Express,
Lucky Dragons,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Human League,
Carl Craig,
Unwound,
The Real Kids,
The Pretty Things,
Unrelated Segments,
Suicide,
Flipper,
DJ Style,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alphaville,
Fela Kuti,
Tim Buckley,
Soul Sonic Force,
Arab on Radar,
Talk Talk,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.