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 Ecuador and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the electroclash 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Alton Ellis,
the Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yellowson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Donny Hathaway,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agent Orange,
Zapp,
Marmalade,
Wasted Youth,
Minny Pops,
Peter and Kerry,
Boredoms,
Sixth Finger,
The Invisible,
Big Daddy Kane,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Birthday Party,
Absolute Body Control,
John Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Young Marble Giants,
Letta Mbulu,
Harry Pussy,
Arcadia,
The Fugs,
the Association,
Theoretical Girls,
Yusef Lateef,
Whodini,
The Leaves,
Guru Guru,
Audionom,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Camberwell Now,
The Associates,
Eve St. Jones,
K-Klass,
Jawbox,
Suburban Knight,
Drexciya,
X-101,
Throbbing Gristle,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Residents,
Reagan Youth,
Monolake,
The Red Krayola,
Kerri Chandler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
FM Einheit,
The Neon Judgement,
Skriet,
Scion,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.