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 Turkey and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the funk 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Depeche Mode,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Flag,
Infiniti,
The Barracudas,
The Toasters,
The Saints,
The Star Department,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Buckinghams,
Flash Fearless,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gun Club,
One Last Wish,
The Stooges,
The Techniques,
The Busters,
Tubeway Army,
EPMD,
F. McDonald,
Groovy Waters,
Banda Bassotti,
Robert Görl,
Los Fastidios,
The Blues Magoos,
Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minnie Riperton,
Chris & Cosey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Remains,
Tommy Roe,
The Real Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
New York Dolls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Pus,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Enemy,
The Selecter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swell Maps,
Main Source,
Basic Channel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pet Shop Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dead Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Moon,
Qualms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
L. Decosne,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.