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 Libya and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Bourne to the dance 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Joey Negro,
Black Pus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nation of Ulysses,
Interpol,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
Roxette,
Circle Jerks,
Blossom Toes,
Rod Modell,
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Spandau Ballet,
Tommy Roe,
Dead Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
Gang Starr,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eric B and Rakim,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Buckinghams,
Susan Cadogan,
Dennis Brown,
Oneida,
Sun Ra,
Lou Christie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Peter and Kerry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joe Smooth,
Al Stewart,
The Trojans,
Ronnie Foster,
John Lydon,
Carl Craig,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soft Cell,
Cal Tjader,
Amon Düül,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Echospace,
B.T. Express,
Newcleus,
Magma,
Mr. Review,
Stereo Dub,
Erasure,
Archie Shepp,
Grauzone,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Joy Division,
Popol Vuh,
Prince Buster,
Animal Collective,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.