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 St Lucia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
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 sitar 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 The Tremeloes 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
K-Klass,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Moon,
The Techniques,
Cheater Slicks,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Patti Smith,
Zapp,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jeff Mills,
Unwound,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Boredoms,
The Grass Roots,
Interpol,
Average White Band,
Deadbeat,
Malaria!,
Brand Nubian,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Birthday Party,
48th St. Collective,
Television,
Khruangbin,
The Sound,
The Litter,
The Monks,
Man Parrish,
Cameo,
Icehouse,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Misunderstood,
Pantytec,
Steve Hackett,
Los Fastidios,
Young Marble Giants,
Second Layer,
Skaos,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Lydon,
Dawn Penn,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Visage,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Charles Mingus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
10cc,
KRS-One,
Country Teasers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cowsills,
Make Up,
Trumans Water,
PIL,
DNA,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.