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 Nauru and from Glasgow.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 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 Brothers Johnson to the jazz 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Moebius,
The American Breed,
Spoonie Gee,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fat Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gladiators,
R.M.O.,
Eddi Front,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Starr,
David Axelrod,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mo-Dettes,
The Angels of Light,
Skarface,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Brothers Johnson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dorothy Ashby,
Boredoms,
Terry Callier,
Q65,
Shuggie Otis,
Kevin Saunderson,
Freddie Wadling,
Bauhaus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crooked Eye,
Sixth Finger,
Byron Stingily,
Morten Harket,
Pylon,
Jeff Lynne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Pus,
Soft Machine,
Ronan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fatback Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Letta Mbulu,
Bluetip,
Drive Like Jehu,
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
The Martian,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Smiths,
The Red Krayola,
Nils Olav,
The Moleskins,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.