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 Uruguay and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Black Bananas to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 JFA. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agitation Free,
Kaleidoscope,
Sugar Minott,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Shoche,
PIL,
Janne Schatter,
New York Dolls,
Graham Central Station,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ronan,
Das Ding,
Smog,
The United States of America,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Siglo XX,
Negative Approach,
Wolf Eyes,
Eddi Front,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Misunderstood,
Thompson Twins,
Bluetip,
Grey Daturas,
Donald Byrd,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Qualms,
The Victims,
La Düsseldorf,
Nils Olav,
Adolescents,
Ronnie Foster,
Sparks,
The Buckinghams,
Nico,
Wally Richardson,
Soft Machine,
Moebius,
Hashim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radio Birdman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Wake,
Fela Kuti,
Brand Nubian,
Pantaleimon,
MC5,
Idris Muhammad,
Pet Shop Boys,
D'Angelo,
The Slits,
The Tremeloes,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.