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 Zimbabwe and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron 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 kango's stein massive to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Essential Logic,
Grey Daturas,
Pussy Galore,
Bootsy Collins,
Piero Umiliani,
Cymande,
B.T. Express,
Motorama,
Franke,
CMW,
Saccharine Trust,
Ornette Coleman,
Ludus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Absolute Body Control,
Letta Mbulu,
Depeche Mode,
Malaria!,
the Soft Cell,
Fat Boys,
Pierre Henry,
Jandek,
Young Marble Giants,
Bill Near,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
X-101,
Index,
Marine Girls,
Skaos,
Japan,
The Zeros,
Jawbox,
Radiohead,
Royal Trux,
The Slackers,
Barry Ungar,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dual Sessions,
Livin' Joy,
Archie Shepp,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Beau Brummels,
Henry Cow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Moleskins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Barrington Levy,
Gregory Isaacs,
New York Dolls,
the Swans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
a-ha,
The Searchers,
Lyres,
Harmonia,
The Saints,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.