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 Switzerland and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Names to the electroclash 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Kayak,
Bob Dylan,
F. McDonald,
Severed Heads,
Schoolly D,
Lou Reed,
Scratch Acid,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masters at Work,
Harmonia,
Carl Craig,
The Fall,
Soul II Soul,
Ohio Players,
Hardrive,
Pere Ubu,
Youth Brigade,
The Alarm Clocks,
Essential Logic,
X-102,
Angry Samoans,
Visage,
James Chance & The Contortions,
AZ,
Deadbeat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Q and Not U,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
kango's stein massive,
Magma,
Alice Coltrane,
Skaos,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Knickerbockers,
The Seeds,
The Five Americans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Toni Rubio,
Sixth Finger,
Davy DMX,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jawbox,
The Zeros,
Duran Duran,
The Durutti Column,
Accadde A,
Qualms,
Fluxion,
Bauhaus,
Chrome,
The United States of America,
Darondo,
Aswad,
The Black Dice,
The Raincoats,
Pharoah Sanders,
Althea and Donna,
Cymande,
Dennis Brown,
Hot Snakes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.