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 El Salvador and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
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 Pantytec to the jazz 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Anakelly,
Ultravox,
Tubeway Army,
Ponytail,
The Fall,
B.T. Express,
The Leaves,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Intrusion,
The Knickerbockers,
Soulsonic Force,
Brick,
Fela Kuti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Don Cherry,
These Immortal Souls,
This Heat,
Deadbeat,
Moss Icon,
Sam Rivers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Zero Boys,
the Swans,
Pussy Galore,
The Tremeloes,
Grauzone,
Black Bananas,
Urselle,
New Order,
Little Man,
Marcia Griffiths,
Darondo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zapp,
Howard Jones,
The Dead C,
Agent Orange,
Bob Dylan,
Nick Fraelich,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sällskapet,
June of 44,
Scratch Acid,
Marc Almond,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dual Sessions,
Gang Starr,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ossler,
X-102,
The Dave Clark Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Birthday Party,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.