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 Papua New Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Girls At Our Best! to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warren Ellis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Rapeman,
Sarah Menescal,
Magazine,
Gang Starr,
U.S. Maple,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultra Naté,
Donny Hathaway,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang Green,
Arthur Verocai,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Los Fastidios,
Urselle,
Quadrant,
Tom Boy,
Aaron Thompson,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
John Holt,
Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
Au Pairs,
Ludus,
Sugar Minott,
Jeff Mills,
Jeff Lynne,
Peter and Kerry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Simply Red,
The Trojans,
Liliput,
Skaos,
Quantec,
Smog,
Surgeon,
The Red Krayola,
Heaven 17,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Piero Umiliani,
Eric Dolphy,
Television Personalities,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nirvana,
Soul II Soul,
Goldenarms,
The Smiths,
Subhumans,
Vainqueur,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
Fugazi,
Cecil Taylor,
The Pop Group,
Minny Pops,
Eve St. Jones,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.