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 Swaziland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and New York.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gerry Rafferty to the grime 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barrington Levy,
Flash Fearless,
The Dirtbombs,
Jacob Miller,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dead C,
Minny Pops,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
Television,
Fad Gadget,
Darondo,
The Gladiators,
Anthony Braxton,
Scrapy,
Isaac Hayes,
the Association,
Black Bananas,
Country Teasers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monks,
H. Thieme,
K-Klass,
Guru Guru,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Eve St. Jones,
Easy Going,
Fat Boys,
Groovy Waters,
Aural Exciters,
Henry Cow,
June of 44,
Roxy Music,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Byrd,
John Lydon,
Brand Nubian,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MDC,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
Circle Jerks,
Anakelly,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Franke,
Blancmange,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Blackbyrds,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wasted Youth,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Sherman,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.