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 Tunisia and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Metal Thangz to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
U.S. Maple,
Black Bananas,
The Knickerbockers,
Slave,
The Beau Brummels,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
John Coltrane,
Oblivians,
Barry Ungar,
The Dirtbombs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Invisible,
Country Teasers,
Godley & Creme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minor Threat,
Donald Byrd,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Hood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Desert Stars,
Sister Nancy,
Dual Sessions,
Al Stewart,
Amazonics,
Roy Ayers,
Duran Duran,
Con Funk Shun,
Young Marble Giants,
Tubeway Army,
Anthony Braxton,
Cheater Slicks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Grass Roots,
Magma,
Spandau Ballet,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arab on Radar,
ABBA,
Funky Four + One,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hot Snakes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Iggy Pop,
Q65,
New Order,
Echospace,
John Foxx,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rufus Thomas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Aloha Tigers,
Judy Mowatt,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.