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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer 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 Blossom Toes to the rap 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Lightning Bolt,
Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Ronnie Foster,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Almond,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Red Krayola,
The Saints,
The American Breed,
David Axelrod,
Franke,
Amazonics,
Letta Mbulu,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
48th St. Collective,
Shoche,
Babytalk,
Tres Demented,
The Sound,
Lindisfarne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lower 48,
Second Layer,
Max Romeo,
Y Pants,
Zero Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
ABC,
Connie Case,
Robert Wyatt,
Blake Baxter,
Gong,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flamin' Groovies,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Associates,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Tomorrow,
Brand Nubian,
Nas,
Severed Heads,
Soulsonic Force,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ludus,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pagans,
Bauhaus,
Toni Rubio,
Sparks,
Marmalade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Faust,
Eric B and Rakim,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Hood,
The Durutti Column,
The Gun Club,
Wasted Youth,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.