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 Djibouti and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 kango's stein massive to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Suicide,
Moss Icon,
Flipper,
These Immortal Souls,
Ossler,
The Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Terrestrial Tones,
La Düsseldorf,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rakim,
Unrelated Segments,
Morten Harket,
Marine Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scan 7,
Stetsasonic,
Radiopuhelimet,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Groovy Waters,
Blossom Toes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Intrusion,
Dave Gahan,
DJ Sneak,
the Sonics,
X-102,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fela Kuti,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Public Enemy,
Alison Limerick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
Lindisfarne,
Eurythmics,
Pantaleimon,
Freddie Wadling,
Neu!,
The Music Machine,
Gichy Dan,
Connie Case,
Bobby Hutcherson,
OOIOO,
Skriet,
T.S.O.L.,
Oneida,
MDC,
The Golliwogs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Beasts of Bourbon,
June Days,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cymande,
Josef K,
Spoonie Gee,
Jeff Lynne,
Swans,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.