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 Somalia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Walker Brothers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Skatalites record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Pantytec,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brick,
Cameo,
Charles Mingus,
K-Klass,
The United States of America,
Erasure,
Cymande,
Nico,
Robert Hood,
The Invisible,
Faraquet,
Barrington Levy,
Fear,
The Slits,
Sound Behaviour,
Y Pants,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
Sam Rivers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Alarm Clocks,
Make Up,
Barbara Tucker,
The Durutti Column,
Juan Atkins,
Crime,
Sight & Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-101,
Tommy Roe,
DJ Style,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Heaven 17,
Marine Girls,
Technova,
D'Angelo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Fatback Band,
Public Enemy,
Sonic Youth,
The Walker Brothers,
10cc,
The Motions,
Agent Orange,
Harmonia,
Kerri Chandler,
Skaos,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Niagra,
Mark Hollis,
Von Mondo,
Sex Pistols,
Prince Buster,
Stockholm Monsters,
Carl Craig,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.