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 Honduras and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar 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 Television Personalities to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Sun Ra,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Motorama,
Gabor Szabo,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Modern Lovers,
Von Mondo,
Fatback Band,
10cc,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Symarip,
Eli Mardock,
Oblivians,
Pantytec,
These Immortal Souls,
Silicon Teens,
Franke,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalann,
Electric Prunes,
D'Angelo,
MC5,
Donald Byrd,
Inner City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young,
Deadbeat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Basic Channel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Swans,
The Names,
Slave,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Walker Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Das Ding,
Mr. Review,
Ornette Coleman,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Reagan Youth,
Delta 5,
Thompson Twins,
Loose Ends,
Funkadelic,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Remains,
Make Up,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Doors,
Gil Scott Heron,
Yazoo,
Rapeman,
Nils Olav,
Patti Smith,
Scientists,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.