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 Djibouti and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 Electric Prunes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
John Lydon,
Connie Case,
Circle Jerks,
The Gun Club,
LL Cool J,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Patti Smith,
Rapeman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Average White Band,
Siglo XX,
Tears for Fears,
Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Don Cherry,
The Victims,
Pylon,
Tim Buckley,
Slave,
Malaria!,
Lucky Dragons,
Roxy Music,
Ice-T,
Alison Limerick,
The United States of America,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angry Samoans,
Electric Prunes,
X-102,
Bronski Beat,
U.S. Maple,
Chris & Cosey,
A Certain Ratio,
Letta Mbulu,
The Grass Roots,
Barbara Tucker,
Althea and Donna,
John Cale,
Symarip,
Gong,
The Busters,
Bobby Byrd,
Michelle Simonal,
Ten City,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Suburban Knight,
Adolescents,
Eric Dolphy,
Blake Baxter,
Peter and Kerry,
Sister Nancy,
David Bowie,
Ultimate Spinach,
Section 25,
Faraquet,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.