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 Kiribati and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Von Mondo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Barrington Levy,
Jacob Miller,
The Dirtbombs,
Matthew Halsall,
The Tremeloes,
Jawbox,
Pussy Galore,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crooked Eye,
Radio Birdman,
LL Cool J,
X-Ray Spex,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Buckinghams,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scrapy,
The Skatalites,
X-101,
Von Mondo,
The Slits,
Audionom,
Bill Near,
Mad Mike,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
Interpol,
Andrew Hill,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Technova,
Tommy Roe,
Albert Ayler,
The Offenders,
Oblivians,
Stereo Dub,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Divine Comedy,
The Mojo Men,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
MDC,
Talk Talk,
Dark Day,
Unrelated Segments,
Slave,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fela Kuti,
Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joensuu 1685,
The Motions,
The Smoke,
Byron Stingily,
Marc Almond,
World's Most,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Al Stewart,
Man Parrish,
Reuben Wilson,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.