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 Bhutan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Laurel Aitken to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slits,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Invisible,
Kas Product,
Rapeman,
The Cowsills,
Pole,
Alphaville,
Rod Modell,
The Sound,
Niagra,
John Foxx,
Robert Görl,
Malaria!,
Minutemen,
Brass Construction,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash,
Babytalk,
Bronski Beat,
Talk Talk,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rites of Spring,
Khruangbin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
E-Dancer,
Y Pants,
The American Breed,
Thompson Twins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
La Düsseldorf,
Alice Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fugs,
Robert Hood,
The Buckinghams,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Certain Ratio,
The Martian,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
Marine Girls,
Jacob Miller,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nico,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eric Copeland,
Albert Ayler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Theoretical Girls,
Iggy Pop,
Sam Rivers,
Althea and Donna,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Index,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.