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 South Africa and from Accra.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grime 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Bar-Kays,
The Gun Club,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Byron Stingily,
Animal Collective,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jacob Miller,
The Monochrome Set,
Aaron Thompson,
Sixth Finger,
the Association,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
The Birthday Party,
Stetsasonic,
Chrome,
Banda Bassotti,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Don Cherry,
Kerri Chandler,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lalann,
Prince Buster,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Blues Magoos,
Slick Rick,
Slave,
Can,
Ice-T,
Peter & Gordon,
Q and Not U,
The Monks,
Visage,
the Germs,
Reagan Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Marvin Gaye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Archie Shepp,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Buckinghams,
Grey Daturas,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare,
Nik Kershaw,
Lungfish,
The Selecter,
Arthur Verocai,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
Mandrill,
Charles Mingus,
Zero Boys,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.