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 Bangladesh and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 Arab on Radar to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
The Moleskins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Soft Cell,
Echospace,
Nils Olav,
Tubeway Army,
Oneida,
Eli Mardock,
Rekid,
Qualms,
Amazonics,
Infiniti,
Jerry's Kids,
The Dead C,
Mandrill,
Reagan Youth,
The Toasters,
Neil Young,
New Order,
Altered Images,
Grauzone,
Man Parrish,
Terry Callier,
The Saints,
Radiohead,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Bar-Kays,
Sexual Harrassment,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dirtbombs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Chrome,
Trumans Water,
Hashim,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
H. Thieme,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Basic Channel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rosa Yemen,
Dave Gahan,
Marmalade,
Circle Jerks,
Sugar Minott,
MC5,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Bowie,
Easy Going,
Danielle Patucci,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shoche,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
Godley & Creme,
Jacob Miller,
Dawn Penn,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.