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 Tuvalu and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Michael McDonald 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 Agitation Free to the electroclash 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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Pantaleimon,
The Modern Lovers,
the Germs,
Peter and Kerry,
Agitation Free,
Robert Wyatt,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rufus Thomas,
Theoretical Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Lungfish,
Harry Pussy,
Vladislav Delay,
Ralphi Rosario,
Faust,
Yusef Lateef,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Wake,
The Fugs,
Make Up,
The Leaves,
Charles Mingus,
MDC,
Reuben Wilson,
Loose Ends,
Aural Exciters,
Ponytail,
Barrington Levy,
Eddi Front,
John Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
H. Thieme,
Y Pants,
Kayak,
the Sonics,
The Standells,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Circle Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultravox,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sixth Finger,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Certain Ratio,
The Gladiators,
Au Pairs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dave Gahan,
The Five Americans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Quantec,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
Scientists,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sällskapet,
Maurizio,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.