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 Ireland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Monks 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Sixth Finger,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dirtbombs,
Trumans Water,
Kas Product,
Eli Mardock,
Roxette,
John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Boredoms,
Cameo,
The Saints,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Matthew Halsall,
the Soft Cell,
Pylon,
kango's stein massive,
The Kinks,
Nirvana,
Carl Craig,
Flamin' Groovies,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scratch Acid,
Sparks,
Patti Smith,
The Pop Group,
Jawbox,
Man Eating Sloth,
Barrington Levy,
Stetsasonic,
UT,
KRS-One,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Laurel Aitken,
James White and The Blacks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bush Tetras,
Eric B and Rakim,
Organ,
Absolute Body Control,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Desert Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Skatalites,
Magazine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bronski Beat,
The Birthday Party,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.