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 Lesotho and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator 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 JFA to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Freddie Wadling,
Harry Pussy,
Sight & Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Altered Images,
Gang Gang Dance,
Electric Prunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dawn Penn,
The Gun Club,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wasted Youth,
The Cowsills,
The Electric Prunes,
Brass Construction,
Unrelated Segments,
The United States of America,
Mission of Burma,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scratch Acid,
World's Most,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ohio Players,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Stooges,
Eric B and Rakim,
Severed Heads,
Lower 48,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Half Japanese,
Andrew Hill,
Donny Hathaway,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June Days,
The Blues Magoos,
Fugazi,
KRS-One,
Sugar Minott,
The Happenings,
Bill Near,
Los Fastidios,
Stiv Bators,
Echospace,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang On A Can,
Pussy Galore,
The Walker Brothers,
Ice-T,
Dennis Brown,
The Searchers,
Flipper,
Inner City,
La Düsseldorf,
Mantronix,
Panda Bear,
Lalann,
Rotary Connection,
The Dirtbombs,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.