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 Argentina and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fela Kuti to the grime 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Holt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
OOIOO,
John Coltrane,
JFA,
The Fortunes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Byron Stingily,
Blake Baxter,
The Mojo Men,
Alphaville,
Hot Snakes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Selecter,
AZ,
Aural Exciters,
Surgeon,
Second Layer,
Amazonics,
Blancmange,
Man Eating Sloth,
New Age Steppers,
DJ Style,
Graham Central Station,
Tres Demented,
Babytalk,
The Mummies,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Grass Roots,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Searchers,
Altered Images,
Crispy Ambulance,
James White and The Blacks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Das Ding,
The Walker Brothers,
John Lydon,
Letta Mbulu,
The Trojans,
Smog,
Young Marble Giants,
Minny Pops,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sparks,
Aloha Tigers,
The Index,
David Axelrod,
The Saints,
Ronnie Foster,
Morten Harket,
Section 25,
The Moody Blues,
Underground Resistance,
Bush Tetras,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Index,
Erykah Badu,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.