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 Paraguay and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 Victims to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Procol Harum,
Delta 5,
The Buckinghams,
Mantronix,
Lightning Bolt,
The Kinks,
Fear,
Ituana,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Lydon,
The Litter,
Ponytail,
The Doors,
Aaron Thompson,
Quando Quango,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
New Age Steppers,
Organ,
Spoonie Gee,
Intrusion,
Laurel Aitken,
Royal Trux,
Goldenarms,
Joensuu 1685,
Arab on Radar,
Erasure,
Suicide,
Matthew Halsall,
The Young Rascals,
Lungfish,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pylon,
Robert Görl,
The Selecter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fugs,
Blancmange,
Black Pus,
John Coltrane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Angels of Light,
CMW,
Talk Talk,
The Toasters,
Dark Day,
The J.B.'s,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Enemy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deepchord,
The Knickerbockers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gang Gang Dance,
Average White Band,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.