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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Crispy Ambulance to the rock 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Kerri Chandler,
The Kinks,
Dave Gahan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DJ Style,
Pylon,
David Axelrod,
Minor Threat,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cameo,
Grauzone,
Judy Mowatt,
Graham Central Station,
The Fuzztones,
Nico,
Gichy Dan,
Pussy Galore,
Throbbing Gristle,
Underground Resistance,
Black Pus,
New York Dolls,
The Standells,
The Litter,
David Bowie,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Music Machine,
Dennis Brown,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Count Five,
Silicon Teens,
Althea and Donna,
Drexciya,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Deakin,
Al Stewart,
Steve Hackett,
The Monks,
Popol Vuh,
Harry Pussy,
The Buckinghams,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Lydon,
The American Breed,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Smog,
Fela Kuti,
Joyce Sims,
Q65,
Cluster,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Bob Dylan,
Bill Wells,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.