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 Micronesia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
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 snare 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 Martian to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boz Scaggs,
Magma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Adolescents,
Lakeside,
Barrington Levy,
Pantaleimon,
Fear,
Skriet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sugar Minott,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kaleidoscope,
Lucky Dragons,
The Searchers,
Procol Harum,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Panda Bear,
Porter Ricks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Duran Duran,
Rod Modell,
Scientists,
Fad Gadget,
Slick Rick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eddi Front,
This Heat,
David Bowie,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Sherman,
Mantronix,
Sarah Menescal,
T.S.O.L.,
Patti Smith,
One Last Wish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Derrick May,
The Pretty Things,
the Normal,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Misunderstood,
Royal Trux,
Quantec,
The Leaves,
Cameo,
Lou Reed,
David Axelrod,
Dual Sessions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nas,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick Morgan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
KRS-One,
Masters at Work,
Lungfish,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.