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 El Salvador and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Motions to the rap 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Susan Cadogan,
Wasted Youth,
Brothers Johnson,
Davy DMX,
Black Bananas,
Darondo,
PIL,
Newcleus,
Ronan,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
Chrome,
Jacques Brel,
kango's stein massive,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Sherman,
Roger Hodgson,
Charles Mingus,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New Age Steppers,
John Holt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Star Department,
Marcia Griffiths,
Whodini,
Technova,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mission of Burma,
Minnie Riperton,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cybotron,
China Crisis,
Donald Byrd,
June Days,
Flash Fearless,
Duran Duran,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Residents,
Byron Stingily,
T. Rex,
Pantytec,
Main Source,
Delon & Dalcan,
Goldenarms,
Tomorrow,
Fela Kuti,
Deakin,
Sex Pistols,
Hoover,
Sonic Youth,
Pantaleimon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Janne Schatter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dawn Penn,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.