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 Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Prince Buster to the electroclash 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
John Foxx,
Shoche,
The Cramps,
DJ Sneak,
Whodini,
The Alarm Clocks,
Organ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
Carl Craig,
Eurythmics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Barracudas,
Chris Corsano,
Harmonia,
James White and The Blacks,
Letta Mbulu,
Tears for Fears,
Vladislav Delay,
Skriet,
Babytalk,
Ossler,
China Crisis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Judy Mowatt,
John Lydon,
Nas,
Subhumans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Susan Cadogan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Bob Dylan,
Gang Starr,
Funkadelic,
Scion,
Magazine,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Absolute Body Control,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Five Americans,
The Vogues,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Divine Comedy,
Spandau Ballet,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mary Jane Girls,
F. McDonald,
Charles Mingus,
Tommy Roe,
Godley & Creme,
Traffic Nightmare,
T.S.O.L.,
Lindisfarne,
Unwound,
Pierre Henry,
Au Pairs,
Sight & Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Soulsonic Force,
Blancmange,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.