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 Antigua and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 K-Klass to the punk 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Franke,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David McCallum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Five Americans,
Depeche Mode,
Angry Samoans,
Dark Day,
Ultra Naté,
Shuggie Otis,
Laurel Aitken,
D'Angelo,
Sällskapet,
Chrome,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Simply Red,
Rekid,
Essential Logic,
Newcleus,
The Slackers,
Josef K,
Rapeman,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hot Snakes,
Surgeon,
Alton Ellis,
Sam Rivers,
Visage,
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
David Bowie,
Donald Byrd,
Pere Ubu,
Janne Schatter,
Robert Hood,
Tomorrow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Christie,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobby Sherman,
The Fall,
The Gladiators,
Terry Callier,
Yaz,
Massinfluence,
Quando Quango,
Faraquet,
Fad Gadget,
the Association,
Scion,
H. Thieme,
Vladislav Delay,
Kenny Larkin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Q and Not U,
Masters at Work,
Minny Pops,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.