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 Serbia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Knickerbockers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Dennis Brown,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
UT,
cv313,
Sister Nancy,
Arcadia,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tim Buckley,
DJ Sneak,
Sandy B,
Sparks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Depeche Mode,
Matthew Halsall,
Amazonics,
Babytalk,
Ossler,
Tears for Fears,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Derrick May,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Interpol,
Rod Modell,
Charles Mingus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moleskins,
Mantronix,
Cecil Taylor,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Velvet Underground,
Von Mondo,
Gichy Dan,
Harmonia,
Gang Green,
Joey Negro,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eric Copeland,
Los Fastidios,
Barbara Tucker,
Severed Heads,
Niagra,
The Searchers,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joe Finger,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Selecter,
One Last Wish,
Alton Ellis,
the Soft Cell,
The Monks,
Theoretical Girls,
Radiohead,
Jawbox,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rites of Spring,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Steve Hackett,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.