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 Hungary and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 The American Breed to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Parry Music,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Yusef Lateef,
Thee Headcoats,
Mad Mike,
Andrew Hill,
Eden Ahbez,
Icehouse,
The Victims,
Cameo,
Vainqueur,
Underground Resistance,
The Red Krayola,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mummies,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pop Group,
Second Layer,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Zeros,
The Young Rascals,
Shuggie Otis,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
Japan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Fugs,
L. Decosne,
Mark Hollis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Starr,
Y Pants,
The Dead C,
Davy DMX,
The J.B.'s,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Silicon Teens,
Bobby Byrd,
Boz Scaggs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sound Behaviour,
The Buckinghams,
Jacques Brel,
Moebius,
Fugazi,
The Flesh Eaters,
Intrusion,
Connie Case,
Tommy Roe,
Public Enemy,
Byron Stingily,
Main Source,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fuzztones,
Das Ding,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.