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 Barbados and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Aloha Tigers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Magazine,
David McCallum,
The Cramps,
Derrick Morgan,
Moss Icon,
The Barracudas,
Bauhaus,
Newcleus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Avey Tare,
June Days,
Junior Murvin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Piero Umiliani,
Television Personalities,
Stetsasonic,
John Foxx,
Trumans Water,
The Dirtbombs,
Ronnie Foster,
Nirvana,
Janne Schatter,
Amon Düül,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Searchers,
New Age Steppers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rites of Spring,
the Sonics,
Iggy Pop,
The Saints,
Zero Boys,
Second Layer,
Black Sheep,
Ponytail,
Pere Ubu,
Davy DMX,
Das Ding,
Pantytec,
Ice-T,
Marmalade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scratch Acid,
The Monochrome Set,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Groovy Waters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slackers,
Can,
Rosa Yemen,
Man Parrish,
Simply Red,
Infiniti,
Juan Atkins,
Goldenarms,
Oneida,
FM Einheit,
Easy Going,
Supertramp,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mark Hollis,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.