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 Tunisia and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Unrelated Segments to the rap 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
The Vogues,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Pus,
David McCallum,
Davy DMX,
The Pretty Things,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mandrill,
Franke,
Deadbeat,
Y Pants,
The Doors,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barry Ungar,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun City Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
June Days,
Surgeon,
Kerri Chandler,
B.T. Express,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultra Naté,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
Wally Richardson,
The Remains,
Avey Tare,
The Gun Club,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Spandau Ballet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
The Walker Brothers,
Skarface,
David Axelrod,
Nas,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Buzzcocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Roxette,
Grey Daturas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Magma,
Andrew Hill,
Robert Görl,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lalann,
Jacques Brel,
Darondo,
X-Ray Spex,
Harpers Bizarre,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.