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 Kiribati and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Human League to the dance 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Evens,
Sandy B,
Man Parrish,
Joyce Sims,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Sherman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Goldenarms,
Aural Exciters,
The Birthday Party,
Funkadelic,
Davy DMX,
The Remains,
Mo-Dettes,
Absolute Body Control,
The Music Machine,
The Vogues,
Yellowson,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arcadia,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
MC5,
Bill Wells,
Organ,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Invisible,
Stereo Dub,
Brothers Johnson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Index,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Skatalites,
Slave,
Delon & Dalcan,
Todd Terry,
Scientists,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
Scion,
Anthony Braxton,
Joey Negro,
Dual Sessions,
Monolake,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Janne Schatter,
Stiv Bators,
Ten City,
Lucky Dragons,
Sexual Harrassment,
Michelle Simonal,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick May,
Fela Kuti,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kenny Larkin,
Au Pairs,
Black Pus,
Scan 7,
The Flesh Eaters,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.