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 Slovenia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cecil Taylor to the dance 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Supertramp,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
F. McDonald,
Wasted Youth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bang On A Can,
Circle Jerks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
K-Klass,
Connie Case,
T. Rex,
Amon Düül,
Lower 48,
Matthew Bourne,
New York Dolls,
Agent Orange,
Shoche,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
Pet Shop Boys,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
June of 44,
Ultra Naté,
Jesper Dahlback,
Joey Negro,
Crispy Ambulance,
Technova,
The Last Poets,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Mission of Burma,
Sound Behaviour,
Sexual Harrassment,
This Heat,
Theoretical Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Kayak,
Faraquet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Raincoats,
The Index,
Von Mondo,
Electric Prunes,
Rekid,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Easy Going,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mandrill,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arcadia,
The Slackers,
Brothers Johnson,
The Smoke,
Urselle,
The Neon Judgement,
Stereo Dub,
The Modern Lovers,
Freddie Wadling,
Ice-T,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.