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 Djibouti and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Flesh Eaters to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Josef K,
Technova,
Sex Pistols,
The Standells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Mojo Men,
Tres Demented,
Ice-T,
The Doors,
The Martian,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Gladiators,
MC5,
Alton Ellis,
Jacques Brel,
Basic Channel,
Gang Starr,
The Smoke,
The New Christs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Terry,
Smog,
Index,
Boz Scaggs,
Morten Harket,
Lindisfarne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Minny Pops,
The Divine Comedy,
The Tremeloes,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Stooges,
The Saints,
Skarface,
Gregory Isaacs,
Infiniti,
The Offenders,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
A Certain Ratio,
48th St. Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Sarah Menescal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Graham Central Station,
Blancmange,
Charles Mingus,
KRS-One,
Young Marble Giants,
Agent Orange,
Suicide,
Clear Light,
Bobby Sherman,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
The Modern Lovers,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Durutti Column,
Crispian St. Peters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Main Source,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.