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 United States and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Harry Pussy to the crunk 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 Dirtbombs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mad Mike,
Eddi Front,
Morten Harket,
Loose Ends,
Desert Stars,
Nils Olav,
Malaria!,
Q and Not U,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magazine,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Intrusion,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Piero Umiliani,
Little Man,
Niagra,
Delta 5,
Ice-T,
Ponytail,
Wire,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Prince Buster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Max Romeo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Charles Mingus,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Sherman,
Danielle Patucci,
Isaac Hayes,
Brand Nubian,
Au Pairs,
Reuben Wilson,
Cheater Slicks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sound Behaviour,
Ronan,
the Germs,
the Sonics,
Slick Rick,
Main Source,
The Blackbyrds,
ABC,
10cc,
Kas Product,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
The Vogues,
James White and The Blacks,
Depeche Mode,
Jacob Miller,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pere Ubu,
Bad Manners,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.