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 Vietnam and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Metal Thangz to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Henry Cow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Inner City,
Ossler,
Stiv Bators,
One Last Wish,
Bob Dylan,
Bad Manners,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bluetip,
Morten Harket,
The Real Kids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aural Exciters,
Sandy B,
Von Mondo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Intrusion,
Derrick May,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rites of Spring,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Association,
The Human League,
Barbara Tucker,
Big Daddy Kane,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wasted Youth,
Cecil Taylor,
Wally Richardson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Anakelly,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Quando Quango,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sister Nancy,
Prince Buster,
Soul II Soul,
Lungfish,
Donny Hathaway,
Nico,
Oneida,
Robert Hood,
Tubeway Army,
Andrew Hill,
the Fania All-Stars,
Young Marble Giants,
The Standells,
Sonic Youth,
The Searchers,
Smog,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
Kaleidoscope,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.