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 Egypt and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Wasted Youth to the grime 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eden Ahbez,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lyres,
Basic Channel,
Thompson Twins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minor Threat,
Hoover,
June of 44,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Iggy Pop,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Camberwell Now,
The Leaves,
Inner City,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gladiators,
Johnny Clarke,
Simply Red,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Sneak,
Q and Not U,
China Crisis,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
D'Angelo,
Morten Harket,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Star Department,
Tom Boy,
Public Enemy,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Real Kids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lee Hazlewood,
T. Rex,
The Sound,
Liliput,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slits,
The Doors,
The Flesh Eaters,
New York Dolls,
Ronnie Foster,
Chris Corsano,
Jacques Brel,
Gabor Szabo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Roger Hodgson,
Blossom Toes,
Sonic Youth,
The Trojans,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Darondo,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.