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 Nauru and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Graham Central Station to the rock 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
The Smoke,
Cheater Slicks,
FM Einheit,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camberwell Now,
Laurel Aitken,
Avey Tare,
Scott Walker,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mr. Review,
Toni Rubio,
Glenn Branca,
Pylon,
Fear,
Freddie Wadling,
Spoonie Gee,
Judy Mowatt,
The Moody Blues,
Eurythmics,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Brothers Johnson,
DJ Sneak,
Skaos,
The Busters,
Suicide,
CMW,
Supertramp,
Susan Cadogan,
Bad Manners,
Duran Duran,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
Ronnie Foster,
Minny Pops,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wolf Eyes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Josef K,
the Sonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Jeru the Damaja,
One Last Wish,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Almond,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The New Christs,
Guru Guru,
Marcia Griffiths,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang Starr,
Sparks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neil Young,
Bauhaus,
Khruangbin,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.