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 Estonia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Zapp to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash 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 crunk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Howard Jones,
Metal Thangz,
Sarah Menescal,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Bananas,
Blossom Toes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Parry Music,
Rites of Spring,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sun Ra,
Derrick May,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
10cc,
The Martian,
Suicide,
The Velvet Underground,
U.S. Maple,
Harry Pussy,
Duran Duran,
The Tremeloes,
Camouflage,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Banda Bassotti,
The Searchers,
Derrick Morgan,
Matthew Halsall,
Reuben Wilson,
Sonic Youth,
Talk Talk,
B.T. Express,
Liliput,
Laurel Aitken,
Dave Gahan,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wings,
the Association,
Albert Ayler,
Electric Prunes,
Minutemen,
The Buckinghams,
Kayak,
R.M.O.,
Roy Ayers,
The Vogues,
Faust,
Alton Ellis,
Todd Rundgren,
The Count Five,
Prince Buster,
Aaron Thompson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Moleskins,
Arthur Verocai,
Basic Channel,
Smog,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.