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 Hungary and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat 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?
Minor Threat,
E-Dancer,
Davy DMX,
Ornette Coleman,
Swans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erykah Badu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
Kas Product,
Dawn Penn,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Walker Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
the Soft Cell,
Hasil Adkins,
Ronnie Foster,
The Mojo Men,
Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
Gang Starr,
The Sound,
the Bar-Kays,
Black Moon,
Qualms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Yazoo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Fania All-Stars,
UT,
Barrington Levy,
Connie Case,
Reuben Wilson,
The Techniques,
Lindisfarne,
Cecil Taylor,
Susan Cadogan,
PIL,
DJ Sneak,
JFA,
The Residents,
Faraquet,
The Birthday Party,
Carl Craig,
The Wake,
Alton Ellis,
Warsaw,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kaleidoscope,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kayak,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobby Womack,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.