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 Uganda and from Copenhagen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Last Poets to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Holt,
Mr. Review,
Gong,
Second Layer,
Harry Pussy,
Colin Newman,
Sight & Sound,
Arcadia,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Icehouse,
The Cramps,
Accadde A,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Symarip,
The Victims,
The New Christs,
Sällskapet,
Funkadelic,
The Seeds,
Ronnie Foster,
Y Pants,
Panda Bear,
Essential Logic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Selecter,
The Trojans,
The Young Rascals,
Bush Tetras,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lightning Bolt,
The Invisible,
Neu!,
Gang of Four,
Maurizio,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Music Machine,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rapeman,
Marvin Gaye,
Fear,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Christie,
Liliput,
Dark Day,
the Sonics,
Alice Coltrane,
Brand Nubian,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gichy Dan,
Amon Düül,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Minnie Riperton,
Ten City,
The Fortunes,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
Arthur Verocai,
Dennis Brown,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.