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 Guyana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kool Moe Dee to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
T. Rex,
Motorama,
The Velvet Underground,
Erasure,
Soft Machine,
The Index,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sister Nancy,
Mad Mike,
The Real Kids,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sun City Girls,
Rakim,
Freddie Wadling,
One Last Wish,
X-Ray Spex,
The Offenders,
Half Japanese,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The J.B.'s,
Radio Birdman,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DJ Sneak,
Yusef Lateef,
The Happenings,
The New Christs,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Adolescents,
Wally Richardson,
Pussy Galore,
Patti Smith,
Faraquet,
Lakeside,
The Durutti Column,
Quando Quango,
Scratch Acid,
kango's stein massive,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Moby Grape,
Scientists,
The Beau Brummels,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Divine Comedy,
Ornette Coleman,
Godley & Creme,
Bill Wells,
Marc Almond,
Brand Nubian,
Jeff Mills,
Saccharine Trust,
Thee Headcoats,
Ice-T,
Roger Hodgson,
The Moleskins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Icehouse,
Flipper,
D'Angelo,
Depeche Mode,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.