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 Honduras and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 X-102 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
The Electric Prunes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
The Index,
Talk Talk,
Joy Division,
Cymande,
A Certain Ratio,
Soulsonic Force,
the Germs,
Model 500,
John Coltrane,
Barbara Tucker,
Funkadelic,
One Last Wish,
The Pretty Things,
Delta 5,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Archie Shepp,
FM Einheit,
Unwound,
MC5,
Skarface,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Agent Orange,
The Busters,
Matthew Halsall,
Neu!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tomorrow,
The Five Americans,
Japan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Young Rascals,
X-102,
Dark Day,
Masters at Work,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Newcleus,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sex Pistols,
World's Most,
Donald Byrd,
Amazonics,
Ultra Naté,
Graham Central Station,
Cal Tjader,
Henry Cow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Barracudas,
Oneida,
Davy DMX,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nick Fraelich,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.