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 Ghana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fire Engines 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Mandrill,
Audionom,
Black Flag,
The Velvet Underground,
A Certain Ratio,
Boz Scaggs,
The Five Americans,
Whodini,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marc Almond,
Marvin Gaye,
Swell Maps,
Moby Grape,
Anthony Braxton,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Livin' Joy,
Faraquet,
Chrome,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Shoche,
The Busters,
Guru Guru,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Maurizio,
Suicide,
The Fuzztones,
Rosa Yemen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
KRS-One,
Joensuu 1685,
Nick Fraelich,
Theoretical Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Soul II Soul,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Invisible,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sun City Girls,
Black Sheep,
Lalann,
Buzzcocks,
New Age Steppers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Clear Light,
Pet Shop Boys,
Connie Case,
Robert Wyatt,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Von Mondo,
Parry Music,
Bob Dylan,
Lou Reed,
Piero Umiliani,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Terry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Vogues,
Thee Headcoats,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.