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 Egypt and from Cairo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 snare 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 Dirtbombs to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
David McCallum,
Los Fastidios,
Leonard Cohen,
Eve St. Jones,
John Coltrane,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boredoms,
Lucky Dragons,
The Red Krayola,
Amon Düül II,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Barrington Levy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Maurizio,
Tommy Roe,
Essential Logic,
Thompson Twins,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Fat Boys,
The Misunderstood,
Brand Nubian,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Erasure,
The Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Magazine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Parry Music,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Womack,
Crispian St. Peters,
The J.B.'s,
T. Rex,
Con Funk Shun,
Dual Sessions,
The Fall,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Royal Trux,
Black Pus,
Procol Harum,
Mandrill,
The Durutti Column,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New Order,
Danielle Patucci,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Albert Ayler,
Big Daddy Kane,
D'Angelo,
Bang On A Can,
Mo-Dettes,
James White and The Blacks,
CMW,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.