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 Eritrea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the punk 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Pierre Henry,
Todd Rundgren,
The Gun Club,
Hashim,
Sun Ra,
8 Eyed Spy,
World's Most,
Symarip,
Simply Red,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Banda Bassotti,
Half Japanese,
Metal Thangz,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker,
Blancmange,
Zero Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Underground Resistance,
Niagra,
The Fuzztones,
Oblivians,
Nico,
Magazine,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Names,
The Last Poets,
Radio Birdman,
Excepter,
Suicide,
the Fania All-Stars,
Albert Ayler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Rosa Yemen,
Oneida,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Music Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marmalade,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Essential Logic,
Anakelly,
Alton Ellis,
Eve St. Jones,
Sonic Youth,
Technova,
The Shadows of Knight,
Amazonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pet Shop Boys,
Unwound,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pere Ubu,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.