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 Paraguay and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fugs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hashim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
A Certain Ratio,
Hot Snakes,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Birthday Party,
Yaz,
10cc,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lucky Dragons,
Fat Boys,
The Happenings,
Neil Young,
DJ Sneak,
Ludus,
The Martian,
Camouflage,
The Pretty Things,
Scott Walker,
Dawn Penn,
Gong,
The Velvet Underground,
Throbbing Gristle,
Echospace,
The Smoke,
Reagan Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lakeside,
The Leaves,
Vainqueur,
The Cowsills,
The Pop Group,
Brand Nubian,
The Durutti Column,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Human League,
Fugazi,
The Stooges,
Spandau Ballet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Blancmange,
The Standells,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Lynne,
Fad Gadget,
Connie Case,
Aural Exciters,
Lightning Bolt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Parry Music,
Lower 48,
New York Dolls,
The Barracudas,
The Tremeloes,
The Cure,
Tom Boy,
Erasure,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Max Romeo,
Peter & Gordon,
Stiv Bators,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.