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 Swaziland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Lou Reed 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 Donald Byrd to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barrington Levy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Minnie Riperton,
Barbara Tucker,
Boredoms,
KRS-One,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gories,
Black Flag,
Easy Going,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flipper,
The Neon Judgement,
Suicide,
Mr. Review,
Lyres,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Wyatt,
Unrelated Segments,
The Music Machine,
The Fall,
Moby Grape,
Juan Atkins,
The Divine Comedy,
the Normal,
Marc Almond,
Kaleidoscope,
Whodini,
Little Man,
La Düsseldorf,
Simply Red,
The Motions,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Enemy,
Sandy B,
Letta Mbulu,
Accadde A,
Groovy Waters,
Freddie Wadling,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Toni Rubio,
Prince Buster,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül II,
Janne Schatter,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sound Behaviour,
Porter Ricks,
Nico,
The Star Department,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Moon,
B.T. Express,
The Index,
Idris Muhammad,
The American Breed,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.