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 the UAE and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Archie Shepp,
Basic Channel,
Buzzcocks,
Arthur Verocai,
the Swans,
Minutemen,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roxy Music,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rakim,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fuzztones,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terry Callier,
Pole,
The Smiths,
Soulsonic Force,
The Kinks,
Dennis Brown,
Derrick May,
Altered Images,
Cybotron,
Hoover,
Max Romeo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Arcadia,
Simply Red,
Tim Buckley,
The Fall,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
Sister Nancy,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Saccharine Trust,
Eden Ahbez,
Marvin Gaye,
Minor Threat,
World's Most,
Inner City,
Darondo,
The Knickerbockers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eurythmics,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sight & Sound,
Interpol,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boredoms,
Mark Hollis,
Aaron Thompson,
Delta 5,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scan 7,
DJ Sneak,
Lalann,
Al Stewart,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.