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 Kuwait and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rapeman to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style 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?
Cal Tjader,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skaos,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Todd Terry,
Fela Kuti,
The Litter,
the Slits,
Mars,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Almond,
Deadbeat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blues Magoos,
LL Cool J,
The Monochrome Set,
Babytalk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Andrew Hill,
Ultra Naté,
Television,
Blancmange,
The Buckinghams,
The Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Little Man,
Laurel Aitken,
Bill Wells,
Sound Behaviour,
The Pretty Things,
Shuggie Otis,
The Durutti Column,
Supertramp,
The Moleskins,
Terry Callier,
X-102,
Lucky Dragons,
Sarah Menescal,
Bluetip,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Cale,
Panda Bear,
Accadde A,
Amazonics,
Malaria!,
Peter and Kerry,
Roy Ayers,
Ken Boothe,
The Offenders,
Bobby Womack,
New Age Steppers,
X-Ray Spex,
Au Pairs,
B.T. Express,
Radio Birdman,
The Five Americans,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.