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 South Sudan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Joensuu 1685 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
The Toasters,
Cluster,
Easy Going,
X-Ray Spex,
Camouflage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aaron Thompson,
UT,
Infiniti,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joey Negro,
Gong,
Barry Ungar,
The Standells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sugar Minott,
Girls At Our Best!,
June Days,
Q65,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Charles Mingus,
Bluetip,
Blake Baxter,
Kenny Larkin,
Stiv Bators,
Nick Fraelich,
The Gap Band,
The Remains,
Anakelly,
Malaria!,
Stetsasonic,
Ponytail,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
Young Marble Giants,
Outsiders,
Scan 7,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Clear Light,
Archie Shepp,
Suicide,
Tom Boy,
MDC,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sam Rivers,
Delta 5,
Lightning Bolt,
Scion,
Camberwell Now,
Soft Cell,
James White and The Blacks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fortunes,
Zero Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
The Cowsills,
CMW,
June of 44,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.