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 Swaziland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Donny Hathaway to the grunge 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Make Up,
Simply Red,
Lungfish,
Lower 48,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
Monolake,
Joensuu 1685,
Little Man,
Wally Richardson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Lynne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kenny Larkin,
Lucky Dragons,
JFA,
Infiniti,
Todd Rundgren,
Saccharine Trust,
Echospace,
Sandy B,
New Order,
The United States of America,
One Last Wish,
The Gladiators,
The New Christs,
Oblivians,
the Sonics,
Camouflage,
Agent Orange,
Albert Ayler,
Joy Division,
The Last Poets,
Jimmy McGriff,
Silicon Teens,
A Certain Ratio,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aural Exciters,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Flash Fearless,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Black Dice,
The Pretty Things,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
Arthur Verocai,
Matthew Bourne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Quantec,
Colin Newman,
Kas Product,
Rhythm & Sound,
CMW,
Marvin Gaye,
Kaleidoscope,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smiths,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.