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 Syria and from Glasgow.
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 Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Dirtbombs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
The Electric Prunes,
Connie Case,
John Foxx,
Whodini,
Sight & Sound,
Albert Ayler,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fall,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wire,
Gong,
The Cowsills,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
Lee Hazlewood,
Scrapy,
Vainqueur,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rites of Spring,
Slick Rick,
Swell Maps,
Spandau Ballet,
Theoretical Girls,
Stetsasonic,
John Cale,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Unwound,
Oneida,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Skatalites,
James White and The Blacks,
Malaria!,
Easy Going,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Television Personalities,
Janne Schatter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nils Olav,
PIL,
Grauzone,
Model 500,
48th St. Collective,
Kerri Chandler,
Dark Day,
Oblivians,
Surgeon,
The J.B.'s,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Man Parrish,
Supertramp,
The Slits,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Robert Wyatt,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Procol Harum,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.