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 Chile and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx 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 disco 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
EPMD,
Letta Mbulu,
The Red Krayola,
The Selecter,
Black Sheep,
Masters at Work,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yellowson,
Alice Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Index,
The Durutti Column,
Reuben Wilson,
Los Fastidios,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cheater Slicks,
Scientists,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Eating Sloth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Malaria!,
Brass Construction,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Moon,
Pantaleimon,
The Golliwogs,
Ossler,
These Immortal Souls,
Crash Course in Science,
John Coltrane,
Groovy Waters,
The Misunderstood,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Slackers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Steve Hackett,
Cybotron,
Duran Duran,
The Monks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faraquet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Prince Buster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eden Ahbez,
Donald Byrd,
Barclay James Harvest,
Traffic Nightmare,
Procol Harum,
Barrington Levy,
MC5,
Magazine,
Dorothy Ashby,
Urselle,
Harmonia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.