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 Angola and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the crunk 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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Derrick May,
Unrelated Segments,
Goldenarms,
Dead Boys,
Audionom,
Hasil Adkins,
Rosa Yemen,
Can,
Rites of Spring,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nirvana,
Ossler,
Heaven 17,
Nas,
Das Ding,
Boredoms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crime,
Inner City,
Ultravox,
Make Up,
The Five Americans,
Marmalade,
FM Einheit,
The Sound,
China Crisis,
The Litter,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fear,
Surgeon,
Marine Girls,
Zero Boys,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Black Dice,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jacob Miller,
Scion,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Soulsonic Force,
Pole,
The Slackers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Animal Collective,
Interpol,
Black Bananas,
These Immortal Souls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ten City,
Pantytec,
The Invisible,
Jesper Dahlback,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
The Mummies,
F. McDonald,
Mo-Dettes,
Sister Nancy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mark Hollis,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.