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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Intrusion to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
KRS-One,
Mantronix,
The Offenders,
Judy Mowatt,
Leonard Cohen,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mad Mike,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sarah Menescal,
The Busters,
Jeff Lynne,
Minutemen,
Lower 48,
Marc Almond,
Stereo Dub,
Fear,
the Germs,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Enemy,
Bauhaus,
Kerri Chandler,
Maurizio,
Index,
Guru Guru,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ten City,
Warren Ellis,
Slick Rick,
Ken Boothe,
In Retrospect,
D'Angelo,
CMW,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brick,
Hoover,
Deadbeat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terry Callier,
The Walker Brothers,
The Count Five,
Kas Product,
Fad Gadget,
The Gladiators,
Ice-T,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Graham Central Station,
Harmonia,
Arthur Verocai,
Nas,
The Fire Engines,
The Standells,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Anakelly,
Thee Headcoats,
Silicon Teens,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.