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 Indonesia and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dorothy Ashby to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Quadrant,
New York Dolls,
Suburban Knight,
Lindisfarne,
the Germs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fad Gadget,
John Holt,
Gang Green,
Camouflage,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Bananas,
Gang Starr,
Wings,
China Crisis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Al Stewart,
Bush Tetras,
Clear Light,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tim Buckley,
The Mummies,
Hasil Adkins,
Bang On A Can,
Roxy Music,
Gong,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Moleskins,
Dual Sessions,
The Skatalites,
The Stooges,
Ituana,
Panda Bear,
Ten City,
The Selecter,
Television Personalities,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blancmange,
The Fortunes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barrington Levy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Amazonics,
Procol Harum,
The Black Dice,
The Fall,
The Dead C,
Wally Richardson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Colin Newman,
Royal Trux,
Derrick Morgan,
Boz Scaggs,
Hardrive,
Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Juan Atkins,
Newcleus,
The Sound,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.