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 Korea South and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
The Raincoats,
10cc,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mummies,
Don Cherry,
Altered Images,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cheater Slicks,
Masters at Work,
Nation of Ulysses,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Smiths,
Ken Boothe,
R.M.O.,
Terry Callier,
the Slits,
Kerri Chandler,
Magma,
Yellowson,
Lucky Dragons,
Intrusion,
Kurtis Blow,
The Dirtbombs,
Eli Mardock,
Skaos,
The Gun Club,
The Tremeloes,
Tim Buckley,
Wasted Youth,
DJ Style,
Fear,
Brand Nubian,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Move,
Dark Day,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Barracudas,
Sun City Girls,
DJ Sneak,
The Smoke,
The Cramps,
The Stooges,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sonic Youth,
Make Up,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hoover,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Janne Schatter,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
Youth Brigade,
Tears for Fears,
Maleditus Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deepchord,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.