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 Botswana and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 PIL to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pet Shop Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Matthew Halsall,
The Blackbyrds,
The Cramps,
Thee Headcoats,
Essential Logic,
Clear Light,
Jerry's Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Accadde A,
The Moody Blues,
Scratch Acid,
Ituana,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Saints,
Public Enemy,
Neil Young,
Kenny Larkin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Panda Bear,
Symarip,
Cameo,
Johnny Clarke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Glenn Branca,
Trumans Water,
Babytalk,
Joe Smooth,
Rapeman,
The Offenders,
Stiv Bators,
Aswad,
Colin Newman,
The Gun Club,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Young Marble Giants,
the Swans,
Rakim,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
Sister Nancy,
The Young Rascals,
Soft Machine,
Marcia Griffiths,
Echospace,
Junior Murvin,
Simply Red,
Joensuu 1685,
Minny Pops,
The Red Krayola,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scan 7,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Idris Muhammad,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DNA,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.