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 Congo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Robert Palmer 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 Minny Pops 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo 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 grunge 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
John Cale,
Monks,
Ludus,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Divine Comedy,
Smog,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pere Ubu,
Pylon,
Japan,
Harmonia,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Index,
Schoolly D,
LL Cool J,
Dawn Penn,
Erykah Badu,
Wire,
Carl Craig,
Vainqueur,
kango's stein massive,
Erasure,
This Heat,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
The Red Krayola,
Trumans Water,
Boredoms,
Wally Richardson,
Johnny Clarke,
Nirvana,
Cameo,
Essential Logic,
Black Flag,
Niagra,
The Moody Blues,
CMW,
Model 500,
Rekid,
Eve St. Jones,
The Misunderstood,
Althea and Donna,
The Saints,
Sandy B,
Funky Four + One,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Golliwogs,
Joey Negro,
Babytalk,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Masters at Work,
Albert Ayler,
Supertramp,
Sonic Youth,
Grey Daturas,
X-Ray Spex,
Amon Düül,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chris Corsano,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.