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 Haiti and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 spring reverb 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 B.T. Express to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Sherman,
Symarip,
Interpol,
Unrelated Segments,
Rapeman,
Brick,
Carl Craig,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magazine,
Kaleidoscope,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lalo Schifrin,
X-102,
Dawn Penn,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nirvana,
The Moleskins,
Johnny Clarke,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roxy Music,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Style,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Aural Exciters,
Warsaw,
The Offenders,
Marine Girls,
Blancmange,
Bang On A Can,
Iggy Pop,
Das Ding,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mark Hollis,
Agitation Free,
Electric Prunes,
Visage,
Wings,
Cecil Taylor,
The Pretty Things,
Oblivians,
Sun City Girls,
Blake Baxter,
Pantytec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moebius,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Angels of Light,
Jesper Dahlback,
Derrick Morgan,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Almond,
New Order,
Ornette Coleman,
Sixth Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Roger Hodgson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Trojans,
The Blackbyrds,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.