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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Johnny Osbourne to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gladiators,
Warren Ellis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Anakelly,
Mantronix,
The Cure,
Laurel Aitken,
The Barracudas,
Model 500,
Bang On A Can,
Henry Cow,
Soul Sonic Force,
Grey Daturas,
Youth Brigade,
Spandau Ballet,
Malaria!,
Dawn Penn,
Siglo XX,
David Axelrod,
Janne Schatter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Audionom,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Icehouse,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Archie Shepp,
Ohio Players,
The American Breed,
Erykah Badu,
ABC,
Bobby Sherman,
Moss Icon,
John Cale,
Gang Starr,
Dave Gahan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Inner City,
Suicide,
Joey Negro,
Toni Rubio,
Faust,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Move,
LL Cool J,
Monks,
The Victims,
X-102,
New Order,
The Gun Club,
Con Funk Shun,
The Selecter,
Organ,
Lalann,
The Slackers,
Tom Boy,
The Index,
Suburban Knight,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.