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 Ecuador and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
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 linndrum 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 The Neon Judgement to the grime 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
Brand Nubian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Masters at Work,
The Leaves,
Procol Harum,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Lydon,
B.T. Express,
Minnie Riperton,
Depeche Mode,
Barbara Tucker,
Mantronix,
Fluxion,
U.S. Maple,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Faust,
Jawbox,
The Kinks,
Ornette Coleman,
The Invisible,
Tomorrow,
These Immortal Souls,
Sister Nancy,
John Coltrane,
the Bar-Kays,
The Trojans,
Aural Exciters,
Animal Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Little Man,
Sugar Minott,
Sun Ra,
K-Klass,
Jeru the Damaja,
Negative Approach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Livin' Joy,
Eurythmics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crime,
Marine Girls,
Gong,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joy Division,
Gil Scott Heron,
Motorama,
Royal Trux,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Audionom,
Man Parrish,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
H. Thieme,
Howard Jones,
Andrew Hill,
X-Ray Spex,
Cybotron,
Connie Case,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.