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 Gambia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Aswad to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Surgeon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sun City Girls,
Fela Kuti,
Funky Four + One,
Scott Walker,
Rakim,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Offenders,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pere Ubu,
Howard Jones,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Moody Blues,
Anakelly,
the Bar-Kays,
Sam Rivers,
Sugar Minott,
Radiohead,
DJ Style,
Soul II Soul,
Mo-Dettes,
Excepter,
Lyres,
Idris Muhammad,
Warsaw,
Cameo,
Suicide,
Vladislav Delay,
Harry Pussy,
Accadde A,
Donny Hathaway,
The Five Americans,
Joe Finger,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fall,
Deadbeat,
E-Dancer,
Black Sheep,
Eric B and Rakim,
Swans,
Mantronix,
Lindisfarne,
Robert Wyatt,
Monolake,
Hasil Adkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Bananas,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
Khruangbin,
Todd Rundgren,
Sonny Sharrock,
Youth Brigade,
Gichy Dan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Darondo,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.