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 Andorra and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro 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 Minny Pops to the techno 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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Buzzcocks,
AZ,
Deepchord,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kerri Chandler,
Eddi Front,
Fluxion,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Godley & Creme,
Blossom Toes,
Davy DMX,
Pantytec,
Crooked Eye,
Rod Modell,
Ronan,
The Motions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Yazoo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marcia Griffiths,
Duran Duran,
the Association,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hoover,
Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül,
The Cramps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Count Five,
Laurel Aitken,
Soft Machine,
Chris & Cosey,
Rites of Spring,
Parry Music,
Pagans,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
Scientists,
The Zeros,
Anakelly,
Unwound,
Johnny Clarke,
Albert Ayler,
Television Personalities,
Letta Mbulu,
Con Funk Shun,
Symarip,
Accadde A,
Idris Muhammad,
Crispy Ambulance,
K-Klass,
Newcleus,
The Black Dice,
Graham Central Station,
Donald Byrd,
Fear,
the Normal,
Magazine,
Sandy B,
Harry Pussy,
Bill Wells,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.