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 Zambia and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Heavy D & The Boyz 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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Leaves,
Unwound,
Mars,
The Pop Group,
JFA,
Intrusion,
Robert Görl,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Red Krayola,
Hashim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cecil Taylor,
Hasil Adkins,
John Lydon,
The Young Rascals,
Albert Ayler,
Sun Ra,
Junior Murvin,
Suburban Knight,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bill Near,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Divine Comedy,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
Erasure,
Be Bop Deluxe,
D'Angelo,
Marc Almond,
Kool Moe Dee,
Depeche Mode,
The Evens,
Ossler,
Gang Gang Dance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moss Icon,
Soulsonic Force,
Letta Mbulu,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Royal Trux,
the Normal,
John Foxx,
Half Japanese,
Second Layer,
Marcia Griffiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Mary Jane Girls,
Andrew Hill,
Avey Tare,
PIL,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Camouflage,
Mr. Review,
Ken Boothe,
Graham Central Station,
Alice Coltrane,
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.