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 Saudi Arabia and from Copenhagen.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 cv313 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Prunes,
Freddie Wadling,
The Smiths,
a-ha,
China Crisis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Black Sheep,
Lightning Bolt,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deakin,
Moss Icon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
David McCallum,
The Remains,
Boz Scaggs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Alice Coltrane,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Heaven 17,
PIL,
Alton Ellis,
Royal Trux,
Y Pants,
Pulsallama,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Judy Mowatt,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Severed Heads,
Metal Thangz,
The Golliwogs,
ABBA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobby Byrd,
Hasil Adkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
kango's stein massive,
Section 25,
Television,
Suburban Knight,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Angels of Light,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pylon,
Mo-Dettes,
Unwound,
Carl Craig,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Leaves,
The Monochrome Set,
Q65,
Interpol,
Minutemen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Litter,
The Beau Brummels,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.