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 Macedonia and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lucky Dragons to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
The Selecter,
The Gladiators,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Graham Central Station,
Robert Hood,
Country Teasers,
48th St. Collective,
The Misunderstood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Average White Band,
Underground Resistance,
The Index,
Lalann,
Marmalade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sällskapet,
Harpers Bizarre,
Godley & Creme,
The Barracudas,
Pylon,
Hasil Adkins,
Symarip,
The Golliwogs,
The Walker Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ossler,
Althea and Donna,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Juan Atkins,
Roxy Music,
The Skatalites,
Marine Girls,
Camouflage,
Bluetip,
The Remains,
David McCallum,
Jacques Brel,
The Happenings,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grey Daturas,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wasted Youth,
Spoonie Gee,
Section 25,
Gang Green,
The Gories,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Con Funk Shun,
DJ Style,
New Age Steppers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Depeche Mode,
Supertramp,
E-Dancer,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.