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 Salvador.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ 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 Curtis Mayfield to the rap 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Görl,
Animal Collective,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Human League,
Minutemen,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Trojans,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Japan,
Soulsonic Force,
Urselle,
Mr. Review,
The Fall,
Dorothy Ashby,
Panda Bear,
Sister Nancy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Organ,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scion,
Banda Bassotti,
48th St. Collective,
Radio Birdman,
Thee Headcoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Excepter,
Deepchord,
Susan Cadogan,
Porter Ricks,
The Residents,
Accadde A,
Q and Not U,
Neu!,
The Blues Magoos,
B.T. Express,
Pagans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sound Behaviour,
Robert Wyatt,
Essential Logic,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camouflage,
Audionom,
Cheater Slicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Brothers Johnson,
Eddi Front,
La Düsseldorf,
Rufus Thomas,
The Neon Judgement,
Aswad,
Donald Byrd,
The Wake,
Whodini,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.