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 Burkina and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 spring reverb 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 Outsiders to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
John Foxx,
Spoonie Gee,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Index,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Victims,
The Vogues,
Kerri Chandler,
The Birthday Party,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
In Retrospect,
Freddie Wadling,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Motorama,
U.S. Maple,
Oneida,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eve St. Jones,
Wasted Youth,
The Names,
The Evens,
Erykah Badu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sixth Finger,
Silicon Teens,
Excepter,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Normal,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Minutemen,
the Slits,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Womack,
Sugar Minott,
The Shadows of Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bill Near,
Swans,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eric Dolphy,
The Seeds,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suicide,
Traffic Nightmare,
Supertramp,
Terry Callier,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythm & Sound,
Index,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Wake,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Derrick Morgan,
Joe Finger,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Inner City,
The Knickerbockers,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.