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 Estonia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 T. Rex to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
The Dead C,
Mark Hollis,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crooked Eye,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dead Boys,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
Howard Jones,
Spoonie Gee,
John Foxx,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Mills,
Erasure,
PIL,
Tomorrow,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Donald Byrd,
Mars,
Aaron Thompson,
Sun Ra,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Silicon Teens,
The Dirtbombs,
John Cale,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Green,
Roxy Music,
EPMD,
Lightning Bolt,
UT,
Roy Ayers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Kinks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Severed Heads,
Johnny Osbourne,
Eric Copeland,
Prince Buster,
Jacob Miller,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
10cc,
The Buckinghams,
Cheater Slicks,
The Wake,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rotary Connection,
E-Dancer,
Boredoms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Underground Resistance,
Tom Boy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Warren Ellis,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.