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 the UAE 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 Pere Ubu to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Wasted Youth,
Interpol,
Los Fastidios,
The Litter,
The Barracudas,
Ken Boothe,
Blake Baxter,
Sonic Youth,
the Sonics,
X-101,
Marc Almond,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
KRS-One,
Black Moon,
Franke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Delta 5,
The Skatalites,
Brick,
Zapp,
The Cowsills,
Lou Reed,
B.T. Express,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fad Gadget,
Delon & Dalcan,
Freddie Wadling,
EPMD,
Marvin Gaye,
The Misunderstood,
Shoche,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radiohead,
Jeff Mills,
Swans,
The Moody Blues,
Depeche Mode,
Pussy Galore,
Spoonie Gee,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sonics,
Basic Channel,
The Moleskins,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
Magma,
Lucky Dragons,
DNA,
Warsaw,
Harmonia,
Fat Boys,
Scientists,
Tubeway Army,
The Alarm Clocks,
Visage,
Harry Pussy,
Hashim,
Henry Cow,
The Seeds,
Kurtis Blow,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.