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 Bhutan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Knickerbockers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Names,
Marc Almond,
Deepchord,
Average White Band,
The Kinks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Byrd,
Dorothy Ashby,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Last Poets,
Second Layer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Saints,
Monks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Mojo Men,
Crime,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Rufus Thomas,
The Invisible,
Q and Not U,
Pantytec,
Don Cherry,
Flipper,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Human League,
The Sonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fear,
Slick Rick,
Slave,
Josef K,
Funkadelic,
The Monks,
Crash Course in Science,
Charles Mingus,
Pere Ubu,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Vogues,
Bill Wells,
Stiv Bators,
Minny Pops,
The Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
Alphaville,
Swell Maps,
The Young Rascals,
June Days,
Delta 5,
The Raincoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eddi Front,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.