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 Ghana and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Angels of Light,
The Moody Blues,
The Names,
Bobby Byrd,
Sex Pistols,
Rotary Connection,
One Last Wish,
Chrome,
Masters at Work,
The Selecter,
Skriet,
Outsiders,
New Age Steppers,
The Barracudas,
Severed Heads,
Wally Richardson,
Juan Atkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magma,
Crispian St. Peters,
Shoche,
Cymande,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
John Holt,
Moebius,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ronnie Foster,
Rufus Thomas,
Bauhaus,
Arthur Verocai,
Idris Muhammad,
Rhythm & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Althea and Donna,
Laurel Aitken,
Fear,
Rod Modell,
Jeff Lynne,
Terrestrial Tones,
Colin Newman,
Ken Boothe,
ABBA,
Al Stewart,
Metal Thangz,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Robert Görl,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Deepchord,
Eric Copeland,
Crooked Eye,
the Slits,
Babytalk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Parry Music,
Surgeon,
The Seeds,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.