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 Malta and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 The Cramps to the grime 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Tom Boy,
Idris Muhammad,
David Axelrod,
Alison Limerick,
48th St. Collective,
The Flesh Eaters,
Popol Vuh,
Swans,
Donald Byrd,
The Gladiators,
Ornette Coleman,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Junior Murvin,
Lower 48,
Das Ding,
The Trojans,
The Evens,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Delon & Dalcan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ponytail,
Sex Pistols,
Flash Fearless,
Banda Bassotti,
The Blackbyrds,
Aswad,
Inner City,
Warsaw,
KRS-One,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare,
The Knickerbockers,
The Names,
Joe Smooth,
Loose Ends,
Charles Mingus,
Mandrill,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Adolescents,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Doors,
Eurythmics,
The Monks,
Don Cherry,
Erykah Badu,
Anthony Braxton,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Blake Baxter,
Gabor Szabo,
Josef K,
Ituana,
Rekid,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.