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 Palau and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Minor Threat,
Urselle,
Surgeon,
Youth Brigade,
A Certain Ratio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
U.S. Maple,
Funkadelic,
Audionom,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Leonard Cohen,
Pulsallama,
Thompson Twins,
Gang Starr,
Roxy Music,
Erykah Badu,
Heaven 17,
The Barracudas,
Bad Manners,
Black Moon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Siglo XX,
Sun City Girls,
Anakelly,
Suicide,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joensuu 1685,
Tomorrow,
Skriet,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Mills,
Neu!,
Moby Grape,
These Immortal Souls,
Dawn Penn,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Alison Limerick,
Porter Ricks,
Pierre Henry,
The Real Kids,
EPMD,
The Tremeloes,
Franke,
Gang Green,
the Swans,
Swell Maps,
Charles Mingus,
Television,
Sam Rivers,
The Residents,
Lungfish,
Unwound,
The Fortunes,
The Gladiators,
Lebanon Hanover,
Drexciya,
Sällskapet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Freddie Wadling,
Barclay James Harvest,
Susan Cadogan,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.