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 Samoa and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Lyon and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Holger Czukay 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 Nik Kershaw to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Whodini,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Litter,
The Remains,
Donald Byrd,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Walker Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
The Sound,
Reagan Youth,
Ten City,
Pantaleimon,
Joe Finger,
The Trojans,
Mad Mike,
Easy Going,
Joy Division,
Liliput,
Mark Hollis,
Rakim,
Sight & Sound,
the Swans,
Accadde A,
Gang Gang Dance,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
The Real Kids,
Al Stewart,
Andrew Hill,
Marine Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Interpol,
The Gories,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
Lucky Dragons,
Gregory Isaacs,
B.T. Express,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
MDC,
The Gladiators,
Grandmaster Flash,
ABBA,
Ludus,
Masters at Work,
Joyce Sims,
Albert Ayler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Johnny Osbourne,
Monks,
The Black Dice,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.