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 Grenada and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Youth Brigade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
The American Breed,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slits,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
A Certain Ratio,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pylon,
Agent Orange,
Metal Thangz,
Connie Case,
The Misunderstood,
John Cale,
The Fortunes,
The Buckinghams,
Grandmaster Flash,
DJ Sneak,
Alton Ellis,
Q65,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Yellowson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Pop Group,
Susan Cadogan,
The Sonics,
Scratch Acid,
Lightning Bolt,
The Cure,
Fluxion,
Quando Quango,
Eden Ahbez,
Fad Gadget,
Gang Starr,
Andrew Hill,
Black Pus,
Rotary Connection,
the Human League,
Pussy Galore,
Yusef Lateef,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Circle Jerks,
Marine Girls,
The Grass Roots,
Pantytec,
Rufus Thomas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faraquet,
June of 44,
Amon Düül,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kenny Larkin,
The Velvet Underground,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slackers,
These Immortal Souls,
Youth Brigade,
Sound Behaviour,
The Monks,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.