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 Albania and from London.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rap 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Pole,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Boz Scaggs,
Duran Duran,
X-Ray Spex,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Second Layer,
T. Rex,
The Neon Judgement,
The Associates,
Nils Olav,
David Bowie,
The Searchers,
Excepter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Laurel Aitken,
U.S. Maple,
Franke,
Gang of Four,
Khruangbin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
One Last Wish,
Scan 7,
The Martian,
Animal Collective,
Jacob Miller,
Malaria!,
Gang Green,
Scratch Acid,
Roger Hodgson,
Shoche,
Lebanon Hanover,
New Order,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cowsills,
Jerry's Kids,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Motions,
Ronnie Foster,
Technova,
Carl Craig,
Mission of Burma,
The Blues Magoos,
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
Newcleus,
Television Personalities,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Trumans Water,
Soft Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lucky Dragons,
Ituana,
Desert Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Starr,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.