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 Syria and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 the Swans to the grime 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joensuu 1685 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Pulsallama,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Last Poets,
Skriet,
the Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
The Wake,
Prince Buster,
Glenn Branca,
The Gun Club,
Pantaleimon,
The Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Idris Muhammad,
In Retrospect,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Letta Mbulu,
John Cale,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
The Names,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeru the Damaja,
Peter & Gordon,
Ten City,
Mars,
Sun Ra,
Kas Product,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Lydon,
T. Rex,
The Litter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Martian,
Can,
The Invisible,
Joy Division,
The Remains,
Amazonics,
The Divine Comedy,
The Selecter,
The Count Five,
Peter and Kerry,
Section 25,
Franke,
The Cowsills,
Howard Jones,
Monks,
Matthew Bourne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Man Parrish,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.