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 United Kingdom and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 American Breed to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Electric Prunes,
Derrick Morgan,
Laurel Aitken,
The Martian,
Interpol,
Kerri Chandler,
Dead Boys,
Camberwell Now,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Iggy Pop,
Charles Mingus,
Harry Pussy,
Monks,
Rufus Thomas,
Talk Talk,
Cluster,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Throbbing Gristle,
Siglo XX,
Scan 7,
The Cure,
the Sonics,
June of 44,
Joyce Sims,
The Skatalites,
Subhumans,
Qualms,
The Monks,
Scion,
FM Einheit,
Lakeside,
Procol Harum,
Kayak,
Neu!,
Alison Limerick,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fugazi,
the Soft Cell,
Grey Daturas,
Thompson Twins,
Massinfluence,
Crime,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
EPMD,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Music Machine,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Moon,
Peter & Gordon,
Funky Four + One,
Eden Ahbez,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerrie Biddell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.