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 Mauritania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tubeway Army to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Wings,
Matthew Halsall,
Brick,
The Kinks,
The Monochrome Set,
Television,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Robert Hood,
Main Source,
Amazonics,
The Evens,
Severed Heads,
Throbbing Gristle,
DNA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Idris Muhammad,
Qualms,
Quadrant,
The Skatalites,
Spandau Ballet,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kerri Chandler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The American Breed,
Depeche Mode,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
AZ,
Maleditus Sound,
Lightning Bolt,
Procol Harum,
Popol Vuh,
John Coltrane,
Hashim,
Pantytec,
Unwound,
The Last Poets,
The Modern Lovers,
Public Enemy,
Radiohead,
Fear,
Brothers Johnson,
Ponytail,
The Music Machine,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Foxx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Quantec,
Supertramp,
Outsiders,
Gabor Szabo,
Loose Ends,
Danielle Patucci,
Dark Day,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
New Age Steppers,
Bauhaus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.