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 Belgium and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the rock 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Cure,
Arcadia,
Wolf Eyes,
The Stooges,
Oneida,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kenny Larkin,
U.S. Maple,
Connie Case,
Bush Tetras,
A Certain Ratio,
Blancmange,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers,
Pulsallama,
Depeche Mode,
The Count Five,
Bob Dylan,
Arthur Verocai,
Section 25,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joey Negro,
Jeff Lynne,
Derrick May,
Suicide,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultra Naté,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
Moss Icon,
Isaac Hayes,
UT,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Warsaw,
Pole,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Saints,
Curtis Mayfield,
The J.B.'s,
Gong,
Joyce Sims,
Peter and Kerry,
Junior Murvin,
Flipper,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Joe & The Fish,
R.M.O.,
Lyres,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Youth Brigade,
Traffic Nightmare,
Metal Thangz,
Lindisfarne,
The Fall,
the Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.