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 Saudi Arabia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 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 Matthew Halsall to the dance 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
F. McDonald,
Country Teasers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jawbox,
Rekid,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
Trumans Water,
Kaleidoscope,
Erasure,
Michelle Simonal,
Dark Day,
Gang Green,
The Gladiators,
Suicide,
Schoolly D,
The Dave Clark Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
The United States of America,
The J.B.'s,
Whodini,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bootsy Collins,
Buzzcocks,
Piero Umiliani,
Fugazi,
Theoretical Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Matthew Bourne,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
Panda Bear,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fall,
Das Ding,
X-Ray Spex,
Pierre Henry,
Maleditus Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
The Real Kids,
Arab on Radar,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bill Wells,
Joe Smooth,
Max Romeo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Slave,
The Buckinghams,
Kurtis Blow,
Lower 48,
The Searchers,
X-101,
John Foxx,
Popol Vuh,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roxy Music,
Delon & Dalcan,
James White and The Blacks,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.