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 Pakistan and from Cairo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
DJ Sneak,
Lucky Dragons,
Blossom Toes,
Y Pants,
Inner City,
Steve Hackett,
Quando Quango,
Cheater Slicks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Starr,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Nils Olav,
The Monochrome Set,
Tomorrow,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heaven 17,
Freddie Wadling,
Cecil Taylor,
Malaria!,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Archie Shepp,
Fat Boys,
Procol Harum,
Delta 5,
Don Cherry,
the Normal,
Barrington Levy,
Sixth Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mojo Men,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Magazine,
Funky Four + One,
Nik Kershaw,
Tears for Fears,
The Leaves,
The Wake,
Agitation Free,
Zapp,
Sugar Minott,
Suicide,
Anakelly,
Yusef Lateef,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
China Crisis,
Boredoms,
The Stooges,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Victims,
Rekid,
Vladislav Delay,
Byron Stingily,
The Seeds,
MDC,
Todd Rundgren,
Nas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.