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 Slovakia and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ 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 The Angels of Light to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kurtis Blow,
Faraquet,
Interpol,
The Techniques,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris Corsano,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rapeman,
the Slits,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gladiators,
Darondo,
X-102,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül,
The Shadows of Knight,
Maleditus Sound,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Martian,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Germs,
The Slits,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ken Boothe,
The Blues Magoos,
Letta Mbulu,
ABBA,
The Smoke,
John Foxx,
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
MDC,
Accadde A,
Public Enemy,
The Dead C,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Country Joe & The Fish,
cv313,
Buzzcocks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Terry Callier,
Bob Dylan,
New York Dolls,
Young Marble Giants,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The New Christs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Görl,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Motions,
Sandy B,
Nas,
Symarip,
Black Pus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.