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 San Marino and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Gang Dance to the grime 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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jacques Brel,
The Blues Magoos,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bill Wells,
Cymande,
Tom Boy,
Heaven 17,
Alison Limerick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Babytalk,
Curtis Mayfield,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Selecter,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
Arthur Verocai,
The Star Department,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Slits,
Byron Stingily,
Pere Ubu,
Joyce Sims,
Pussy Galore,
Connie Case,
The Knickerbockers,
Nico,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Supertramp,
Lalann,
DNA,
Main Source,
Angry Samoans,
Marine Girls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ponytail,
The Saints,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
K-Klass,
Gichy Dan,
Bootsy Collins,
Nas,
Dennis Brown,
Yazoo,
Bobby Womack,
Thompson Twins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Average White Band,
The Divine Comedy,
John Lydon,
The Mummies,
Laurel Aitken,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quando Quango,
Althea and Donna,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.