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 Uruguay and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar 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 Das Ding to the rock 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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Sex Pistols,
Shoche,
Monks,
Index,
Bob Dylan,
Eurythmics,
EPMD,
Interpol,
Aaron Thompson,
Arcadia,
Gang Green,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liliput,
Gabor Szabo,
Symarip,
Crooked Eye,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fall,
The Slackers,
Vainqueur,
Sparks,
Vladislav Delay,
Jacques Brel,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Second Layer,
Glambeats Corp.,
Donny Hathaway,
Pussy Galore,
Nils Olav,
Sarah Menescal,
Wings,
Lou Reed,
The Blackbyrds,
The Moody Blues,
The Litter,
Soul II Soul,
Mad Mike,
MC5,
Dave Gahan,
Eric Copeland,
Sun Ra,
The Martian,
Make Up,
Television Personalities,
Judy Mowatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
This Heat,
Au Pairs,
Joe Finger,
Yaz,
Dead Boys,
48th St. Collective,
John Coltrane,
Robert Görl,
Mars,
Pagans,
Ohio Players,
Drexciya,
The Smiths,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.