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 Haiti and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 New York Dolls to the jazz 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
The Gories,
Fatback Band,
Rekid,
Desert Stars,
Ituana,
Porter Ricks,
Au Pairs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Zeros,
Black Flag,
The Slits,
Wasted Youth,
China Crisis,
Bobby Womack,
Warsaw,
L. Decosne,
Godley & Creme,
Theoretical Girls,
the Human League,
Goldenarms,
Aswad,
Crooked Eye,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Gladiators,
The Skatalites,
Pulsallama,
Pantytec,
Rod Modell,
The Slackers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
10cc,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aaron Thompson,
cv313,
Sixth Finger,
LL Cool J,
Byron Stingily,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moss Icon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Basic Channel,
The Beau Brummels,
Average White Band,
the Sonics,
Marmalade,
Alison Limerick,
Mark Hollis,
Quadrant,
The Gap Band,
Black Pus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fire Engines,
Severed Heads,
Roxette,
Monks,
Cybotron,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.