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 Comoros and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 The Durutti Column to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pylon,
Silicon Teens,
Los Fastidios,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minor Threat,
the Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
R.M.O.,
The Moleskins,
Ituana,
Erasure,
Rod Modell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ronan,
Wolf Eyes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Accadde A,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cybotron,
John Coltrane,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Dawn Penn,
Hasil Adkins,
Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Divine Comedy,
Whodini,
Arcadia,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Spandau Ballet,
The Smoke,
Buzzcocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Angels of Light,
The Happenings,
Fatback Band,
Donald Byrd,
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Harry Pussy,
Ten City,
Livin' Joy,
Amazonics,
Jacob Miller,
Crooked Eye,
Nas,
Warren Ellis,
Rapeman,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
Oneida,
Kerri Chandler,
Brothers Johnson,
Stiv Bators,
Lungfish,
Quadrant,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.