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 Suriname and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Sun City Girls to the crunk 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Delta 5,
Connie Case,
Sandy B,
Warren Ellis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Buckinghams,
Minnie Riperton,
Slick Rick,
Masters at Work,
Silicon Teens,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Malaria!,
Stetsasonic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nas,
The Cowsills,
KRS-One,
Archie Shepp,
Tres Demented,
Spandau Ballet,
Severed Heads,
Matthew Halsall,
Yazoo,
Reuben Wilson,
Tears for Fears,
Todd Terry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Barry Ungar,
Japan,
The Golliwogs,
Joey Negro,
June of 44,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Los Fastidios,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Young Marble Giants,
Marshall Jefferson,
Circle Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
Second Layer,
Ultimate Spinach,
Funkadelic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Roy Ayers,
Ultra Naté,
Blancmange,
Sam Rivers,
Panda Bear,
Dead Boys,
Derrick Morgan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cybotron,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Suicide,
The New Christs,
Livin' Joy,
CMW,
The Gladiators,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.