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 Taiwan and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sandy B to the rock 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alton Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Bluetip,
Ronan,
Mantronix,
Marmalade,
Nico,
China Crisis,
Black Pus,
Clear Light,
Spoonie Gee,
R.M.O.,
Susan Cadogan,
The Five Americans,
Popol Vuh,
Eurythmics,
Yazoo,
Patti Smith,
Avey Tare,
John Foxx,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Ultra Naté,
Lou Reed,
The Trojans,
PIL,
Janne Schatter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grandmaster Flash,
Babytalk,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Malaria!,
Metal Thangz,
Ronnie Foster,
Television Personalities,
Jandek,
David Bowie,
Bobby Byrd,
Gichy Dan,
Sonny Sharrock,
KRS-One,
Eddi Front,
The Doors,
The Human League,
Interpol,
Joe Finger,
Michelle Simonal,
Rosa Yemen,
Kerri Chandler,
The Monks,
Bronski Beat,
Morten Harket,
L. Decosne,
Dark Day,
Main Source,
Jawbox,
The Slits,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.