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 Equatorial Guinea and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Prince Buster to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Mad Mike,
The Count Five,
La Düsseldorf,
Joey Negro,
The Wake,
Alphaville,
Sound Behaviour,
Ken Boothe,
Sparks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Boz Scaggs,
Isaac Hayes,
Desert Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Maurizio,
Anakelly,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Ohio Players,
Lou Christie,
the Slits,
Banda Bassotti,
Janne Schatter,
Sandy B,
The Fire Engines,
Whodini,
T. Rex,
Althea and Donna,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
PIL,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gong,
The Velvet Underground,
Flash Fearless,
Sight & Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
The Victims,
Piero Umiliani,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Brand Nubian,
Con Funk Shun,
Wings,
Deepchord,
Gang Green,
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
Mo-Dettes,
the Swans,
Rod Modell,
Television Personalities,
Alison Limerick,
Aaron Thompson,
Skriet,
Swell Maps,
June Days,
New York Dolls,
Talk Talk,
Magma,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.