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 Kazakhstan and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Andrew Hill to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Main Source,
Kerri Chandler,
Hasil Adkins,
Desert Stars,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kool Moe Dee,
Neu!,
The Names,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Five Americans,
Chris & Cosey,
Absolute Body Control,
Flamin' Groovies,
China Crisis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brick,
EPMD,
The Dirtbombs,
Quando Quango,
Blake Baxter,
Yazoo,
The Beau Brummels,
Skaos,
The Seeds,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Archie Shepp,
CMW,
June of 44,
Dawn Penn,
Sam Rivers,
Peter & Gordon,
Robert Hood,
Pere Ubu,
The Tremeloes,
Underground Resistance,
Scratch Acid,
Second Layer,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jimmy McGriff,
Terrestrial Tones,
Severed Heads,
Nico,
Talk Talk,
Accadde A,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sugar Minott,
Faust,
Ossler,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Model 500,
Blancmange,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Susan Cadogan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Maurizio,
Groovy Waters,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.