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 Greece and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rakim to the grunge 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Mary Jane Girls,
PIL,
The Shadows of Knight,
Skarface,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
DNA,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Panda Bear,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skriet,
L. Decosne,
Metal Thangz,
Byron Stingily,
Mandrill,
Slick Rick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Buckinghams,
Interpol,
Howard Jones,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantytec,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Red Krayola,
Spoonie Gee,
The Leaves,
Amazonics,
Make Up,
The Grass Roots,
The Last Poets,
Pulsallama,
Colin Newman,
Johnny Clarke,
Jawbox,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ohio Players,
Little Man,
Crime,
10cc,
Max Romeo,
A Certain Ratio,
Qualms,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pet Shop Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ituana,
Eurythmics,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Tremeloes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Radio Birdman,
The Beau Brummels,
Royal Trux,
Gang of Four,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Malaria!,
Isaac Hayes,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.