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 Niger and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Todd Terry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nico,
D'Angelo,
The Smiths,
The Smoke,
Brick,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marmalade,
Andrew Hill,
The Skatalites,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Bluetip,
Wally Richardson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Hot Snakes,
Patti Smith,
Underground Resistance,
Soft Machine,
Heaven 17,
Mo-Dettes,
Rites of Spring,
Eric Dolphy,
Lindisfarne,
Loose Ends,
JFA,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arthur Verocai,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nirvana,
Rapeman,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roger Hodgson,
Reagan Youth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cramps,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Offenders,
Brand Nubian,
Crash Course in Science,
The Golliwogs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Matthew Bourne,
Second Layer,
Black Pus,
Eden Ahbez,
Pere Ubu,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Copeland,
Yaz,
Banda Bassotti,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yellowson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.