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 Fiji and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang On A Can to the electroclash 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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Cybotron,
Black Sheep,
Goldenarms,
Black Bananas,
Vainqueur,
Leonard Cohen,
U.S. Maple,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
E-Dancer,
Harpers Bizarre,
Altered Images,
Groovy Waters,
Michelle Simonal,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Moon,
Todd Rundgren,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Monks,
Severed Heads,
Sixth Finger,
Pole,
Bob Dylan,
The Knickerbockers,
Los Fastidios,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
James White and The Blacks,
Banda Bassotti,
Suburban Knight,
Amon Düül II,
The Gories,
Eric Copeland,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Magazine,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ornette Coleman,
Alphaville,
Pylon,
The Saints,
Max Romeo,
Scientists,
Pussy Galore,
David Axelrod,
MC5,
The Golliwogs,
This Heat,
Bobby Sherman,
Franke,
Dead Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Main Source,
JFA,
Amon Düül,
The Associates,
The Moody Blues,
The Gap Band,
Crooked Eye,
The Five Americans,
Roger Hodgson,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.