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 Malta and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Prince Buster to the punk 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
The Slits,
Jeff Lynne,
Silicon Teens,
John Coltrane,
The Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
The United States of America,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
Nils Olav,
Grandmaster Flash,
LL Cool J,
Bobby Sherman,
The American Breed,
Stereo Dub,
Tommy Roe,
The Music Machine,
the Swans,
The Saints,
Aloha Tigers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Green,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
Ossler,
Don Cherry,
Khruangbin,
Tim Buckley,
Banda Bassotti,
Brick,
Quadrant,
Juan Atkins,
KRS-One,
The Shadows of Knight,
Donald Byrd,
Cal Tjader,
Skriet,
Flipper,
Shoche,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lungfish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lucky Dragons,
Brand Nubian,
Todd Rundgren,
Byron Stingily,
La Düsseldorf,
Severed Heads,
The Skatalites,
Ituana,
Rosa Yemen,
Second Layer,
Monolake,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tom Boy,
Hasil Adkins,
Max Romeo,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.