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 Saudi Arabia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Girls At Our Best! to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Sällskapet,
Rod Modell,
Minutemen,
Monolake,
Dennis Brown,
The Index,
Gregory Isaacs,
Susan Cadogan,
Schoolly D,
Joyce Sims,
Siglo XX,
Lucky Dragons,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Delon & Dalcan,
Magma,
Drexciya,
Lungfish,
Alton Ellis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Tremeloes,
F. McDonald,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pussy Galore,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
David Bowie,
Hot Snakes,
The Fall,
Essential Logic,
Minny Pops,
Lakeside,
The Kinks,
DJ Style,
Ornette Coleman,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
New Age Steppers,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
K-Klass,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Suicide,
The Residents,
The Count Five,
Jacob Miller,
Kas Product,
Graham Central Station,
Monks,
H. Thieme,
Hasil Adkins,
Arcadia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Grauzone,
The Fugs,
Chrome,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pere Ubu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sex Pistols,
The Vogues,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.