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 Luxembourg and from Philadelphia.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Jeru the Damaja to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Janne Schatter,
Thompson Twins,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Angry Samoans,
Funkadelic,
ABBA,
B.T. Express,
Arab on Radar,
Sister Nancy,
Blancmange,
New Age Steppers,
Adolescents,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dead Boys,
Archie Shepp,
cv313,
Rosa Yemen,
Barbara Tucker,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Average White Band,
Crime,
The Neon Judgement,
Crash Course in Science,
Kerri Chandler,
Lyres,
KRS-One,
Tommy Roe,
Barry Ungar,
Godley & Creme,
Bang On A Can,
The Barracudas,
Dennis Brown,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flash Fearless,
Juan Atkins,
Sam Rivers,
Aswad,
Shoche,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nirvana,
LL Cool J,
The Monochrome Set,
The Martian,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gladiators,
Spoonie Gee,
FM Einheit,
Sex Pistols,
The Doors,
Reagan Youth,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cluster,
Mars,
Japan,
Henry Cow,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bad Manners,
the Slits,
The Wake,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.