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 Lithuania and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mary Jane Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gichy Dan,
Interpol,
Amazonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Suicide,
The Vogues,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Spandau Ballet,
Dead Boys,
Tomorrow,
E-Dancer,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Iggy Pop,
Blake Baxter,
JFA,
Pylon,
The Mummies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
David Axelrod,
R.M.O.,
Nik Kershaw,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Matthew Bourne,
Kaleidoscope,
The Walker Brothers,
Drexciya,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sonic Youth,
Visage,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dennis Brown,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Can,
Roy Ayers,
Severed Heads,
Depeche Mode,
The Neon Judgement,
The Music Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Reuben Wilson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxette,
Rites of Spring,
Aural Exciters,
The Slits,
Mandrill,
Arthur Verocai,
Metal Thangz,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bad Manners,
Junior Murvin,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
One Last Wish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.