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 Mongolia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Youth Brigade,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nick Fraelich,
The Cure,
Monks,
The Misunderstood,
The Fall,
The Martian,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Pretty Things,
Black Flag,
Lou Reed,
PIL,
Donald Byrd,
Metal Thangz,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Erasure,
Black Moon,
Junior Murvin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jandek,
Zapp,
Bauhaus,
Carl Craig,
Wolf Eyes,
The Gap Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Barrington Levy,
The Electric Prunes,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dave Clark Five,
Massinfluence,
the Sonics,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radio Birdman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kool Moe Dee,
Matthew Halsall,
Grey Daturas,
Dawn Penn,
Television,
This Heat,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Angry Samoans,
Maurizio,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bill Wells,
Nik Kershaw,
Neu!,
Scan 7,
Rites of Spring,
Patti Smith,
Althea and Donna,
Goldenarms,
Fear,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.