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 Australia and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Flag,
Pole,
D'Angelo,
ABC,
CMW,
The Remains,
Warren Ellis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Peter & Gordon,
the Slits,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gun Club,
Whodini,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Andrew Hill,
Aaron Thompson,
Nirvana,
Gang Starr,
Absolute Body Control,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Swans,
Crispy Ambulance,
Quantec,
B.T. Express,
The Stooges,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Don Cherry,
The Five Americans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dead Boys,
Ludus,
Stetsasonic,
Marmalade,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
Byron Stingily,
Brand Nubian,
Monolake,
The Slackers,
Mark Hollis,
Electric Prunes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Grauzone,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Move,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Erasure,
the Soft Cell,
Donald Byrd,
Barry Ungar,
Slick Rick,
Mantronix,
the Bar-Kays,
Minny Pops,
The Saints,
Gichy Dan,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.