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 Moldova and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro 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 Alison Limerick to the electroclash 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Bananas,
the Swans,
Wire,
The American Breed,
Bill Near,
Harry Pussy,
F. McDonald,
The Vogues,
Interpol,
DNA,
Graham Central Station,
Flash Fearless,
The Mojo Men,
Bill Wells,
Masters at Work,
Q and Not U,
The Moleskins,
Delta 5,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Andrew Hill,
Tubeway Army,
Infiniti,
Sun City Girls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Anakelly,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Almond,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang Green,
The Searchers,
Funkadelic,
Al Stewart,
Joey Negro,
Chris Corsano,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cowsills,
Moby Grape,
Mantronix,
Accadde A,
Gong,
Skriet,
Cybotron,
The Saints,
Deakin,
Dual Sessions,
Chrome,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eve St. Jones,
PIL,
Pulsallama,
Juan Atkins,
This Heat,
Donald Byrd,
Kurtis Blow,
Country Teasers,
The Last Poets,
Banda Bassotti,
X-101,
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.