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 Turkmenistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Johnny Clarke to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
The Residents,
Roger Hodgson,
The Smoke,
Moebius,
The Happenings,
Essential Logic,
Minny Pops,
Skriet,
Quando Quango,
The Slits,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Music Machine,
Lou Reed,
Electric Prunes,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Raincoats,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pole,
the Sonics,
Carl Craig,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
B.T. Express,
Soft Machine,
Sun Ra,
Cluster,
Matthew Bourne,
Drexciya,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
Quadrant,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Peter & Gordon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
The Gap Band,
Faraquet,
Mars,
Deepchord,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sex Pistols,
Mo-Dettes,
Subhumans,
Quantec,
Sun City Girls,
Crash Course in Science,
Rekid,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Velvet Underground,
The Star Department,
Sonny Sharrock,
Oblivians,
Reagan Youth,
Johnny Clarke,
Bob Dylan,
Lightning Bolt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
DJ Style,
R.M.O.,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.