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 Uganda and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Holger Czukay 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 Litter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Livin' Joy,
Johnny Osbourne,
FM Einheit,
Neil Young,
F. McDonald,
Al Stewart,
The Pretty Things,
Ossler,
Desert Stars,
Can,
John Lydon,
Mission of Burma,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Moby Grape,
Skriet,
Scion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Zapp,
Average White Band,
Alton Ellis,
Stereo Dub,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry's Kids,
Sixth Finger,
Wasted Youth,
The Barracudas,
Mad Mike,
Urselle,
Slick Rick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dave Gahan,
R.M.O.,
Erykah Badu,
Neu!,
Jacob Miller,
Quantec,
Idris Muhammad,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minutemen,
Alphaville,
the Slits,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tim Buckley,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Angry Samoans,
The Tremeloes,
AZ,
48th St. Collective,
Intrusion,
Minor Threat,
The Knickerbockers,
Josef K,
the Germs,
The Gories,
The Offenders,
DNA,
Nirvana,
The Blackbyrds,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.