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 Kyrgyzstan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Agent Orange to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Michelle Simonal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Little Man,
Glenn Branca,
The New Christs,
Rapeman,
Qualms,
Brothers Johnson,
Anakelly,
Quantec,
Cheater Slicks,
Niagra,
Agent Orange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scratch Acid,
The Vogues,
Buzzcocks,
Scrapy,
These Immortal Souls,
Patti Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moss Icon,
Pantytec,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gun Club,
Carl Craig,
Hardrive,
Crispian St. Peters,
Intrusion,
Eric Copeland,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
Glambeats Corp.,
Idris Muhammad,
Kerri Chandler,
Von Mondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
D'Angelo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Franke,
The Flesh Eaters,
Michelle Simonal,
Accadde A,
Ludus,
Audionom,
Inner City,
Unwound,
Roy Ayers,
the Fania All-Stars,
JFA,
Susan Cadogan,
Matthew Halsall,
Roger Hodgson,
Ossler,
Essential Logic,
Mr. Review,
Man Parrish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crooked Eye,
Index,
Sight & Sound,
Minny Pops,
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.