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 Belize and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 Jeff Lynne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Iggy Pop,
Bill Wells,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
DJ Sneak,
Big Daddy Kane,
Qualms,
The Five Americans,
Slick Rick,
The Durutti Column,
Severed Heads,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
10cc,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moebius,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Patti Smith,
Rufus Thomas,
Y Pants,
The Real Kids,
Lyres,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Symarip,
Fugazi,
Boz Scaggs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Peter & Gordon,
Bluetip,
The Gun Club,
The Electric Prunes,
Hot Snakes,
the Bar-Kays,
Altered Images,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Matthew Halsall,
The Shadows of Knight,
Oblivians,
the Slits,
Moby Grape,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Juan Atkins,
The Dirtbombs,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Gang Dance,
U.S. Maple,
Ultravox,
The Moleskins,
Maurizio,
Siglo XX,
Rites of Spring,
Johnny Osbourne,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.