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 Jordan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Fear,
Lakeside,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Neil Young,
The Mummies,
Roxy Music,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Magma,
Skarface,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Certain Ratio,
The Move,
Nik Kershaw,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
Index,
Quadrant,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deakin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Neon Judgement,
Bang On A Can,
Negative Approach,
Mo-Dettes,
The Real Kids,
Stetsasonic,
the Association,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sight & Sound,
Moss Icon,
The Raincoats,
Black Pus,
The Music Machine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Q and Not U,
Brand Nubian,
Gang Starr,
The Toasters,
Letta Mbulu,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dead C,
June Days,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cowsills,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Grass Roots,
Jacques Brel,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sonics,
Severed Heads,
Johnny Clarke,
Quantec,
Pylon,
The Monks,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.