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 Armenia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 guitar 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Neu!,
Agent Orange,
Roy Ayers,
Dark Day,
This Heat,
Vladislav Delay,
the Swans,
Bill Wells,
Echospace,
Angry Samoans,
Altered Images,
The Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rites of Spring,
The Red Krayola,
The Names,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brass Construction,
Basic Channel,
Los Fastidios,
Rapeman,
The Trojans,
Blossom Toes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Smog,
Jeff Mills,
Sixth Finger,
The Raincoats,
Nation of Ulysses,
Albert Ayler,
Suburban Knight,
Joey Negro,
Boz Scaggs,
10cc,
Q and Not U,
Unrelated Segments,
The Remains,
Magma,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warren Ellis,
The Seeds,
Fatback Band,
Mark Hollis,
cv313,
The Selecter,
Groovy Waters,
Pole,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fugs,
Connie Case,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gap Band,
Mars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pylon,
Half Japanese,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
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.