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 Mauritius and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 808 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 Kerrie Biddell to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Music Machine,
Mission of Burma,
Das Ding,
The Leaves,
Eurythmics,
T.S.O.L.,
Sandy B,
The Dead C,
John Lydon,
X-Ray Spex,
Minor Threat,
Warsaw,
Little Man,
B.T. Express,
Blossom Toes,
10cc,
Country Teasers,
The Black Dice,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Don Cherry,
Amon Düül,
Monolake,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
Bill Near,
Toni Rubio,
Rod Modell,
KRS-One,
This Heat,
Kerri Chandler,
Duran Duran,
Lower 48,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moss Icon,
Fatback Band,
Arab on Radar,
The Fugs,
Jawbox,
Motorama,
Lindisfarne,
Circle Jerks,
Quantec,
The Residents,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
Quando Quango,
Avey Tare,
Howard Jones,
H. Thieme,
Hot Snakes,
Mark Hollis,
Cluster,
Desert Stars,
Soul Sonic Force,
JFA,
Maurizio,
Man Parrish,
The Evens,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.