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 Uzbekistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Arab on Radar to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Graham Central Station,
Donald Byrd,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
One Last Wish,
Sällskapet,
the Human League,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Idris Muhammad,
Rakim,
Mission of Burma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Goldenarms,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Surgeon,
Brass Construction,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
Index,
Massinfluence,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
X-101,
Jawbox,
Grauzone,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric Copeland,
Kevin Saunderson,
Matthew Halsall,
Brick,
Lou Reed,
Monks,
The Misunderstood,
Ice-T,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Scientists,
T.S.O.L.,
the Swans,
Darondo,
Angry Samoans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dave Gahan,
Spandau Ballet,
CMW,
The Tremeloes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sonic Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pierre Henry,
The Cramps,
Arthur Verocai,
The Walker Brothers,
Animal Collective,
R.M.O.,
LL Cool J,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.