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 Philippines and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Hasil Adkins to the grime 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Slave,
Arab on Radar,
K-Klass,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marmalade,
Bronski Beat,
World's Most,
Gang of Four,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Trumans Water,
The Doobie Brothers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rapeman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Radiohead,
Hoover,
Graham Central Station,
Niagra,
The Young Rascals,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pagans,
Pussy Galore,
The Searchers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
The Moleskins,
Monolake,
Country Teasers,
Whodini,
The Busters,
U.S. Maple,
the Soft Cell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Y Pants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Byron Stingily,
Pere Ubu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Magma,
Janne Schatter,
Fugazi,
Kayak,
Sun City Girls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Zapp,
Essential Logic,
Terry Callier,
Dorothy Ashby,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Michelle Simonal,
The Leaves,
The Alarm Clocks,
Babytalk,
Shuggie Otis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Motorama,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.