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 Burundi and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Donald Fagen 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 U.S. Maple to the dance 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Nas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Absolute Body Control,
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
The Stooges,
X-Ray Spex,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ten City,
Slick Rick,
Delon & Dalcan,
Hot Snakes,
Minor Threat,
The Gladiators,
Wire,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gong,
The Dave Clark Five,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Age Steppers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Steve Hackett,
Gang of Four,
Main Source,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
John Coltrane,
Deepchord,
Moby Grape,
Popol Vuh,
Pantytec,
John Cale,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Slits,
The Knickerbockers,
The Red Krayola,
The Selecter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Camouflage,
Avey Tare,
Soft Cell,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Underground Resistance,
Crooked Eye,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Brick,
Joey Negro,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slave,
Rotary Connection,
Black Moon,
The Last Poets,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Circle Jerks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Electric Prunes,
Rakim,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.