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 El Salvador and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Music Machine,
The Star Department,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed,
Rod Modell,
Con Funk Shun,
Tears for Fears,
Tim Buckley,
Minnie Riperton,
Dead Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Neon Judgement,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mad Mike,
The Names,
The Misunderstood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Interpol,
New Order,
Neu!,
John Holt,
John Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
Magma,
Ken Boothe,
Subhumans,
The Divine Comedy,
Jawbox,
Blake Baxter,
Camouflage,
Shuggie Otis,
Gichy Dan,
Grauzone,
Andrew Hill,
Soft Cell,
New Age Steppers,
Siglo XX,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marvin Gaye,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Wake,
Liliput,
Alton Ellis,
Al Stewart,
the Normal,
Girls At Our Best!,
Motorama,
Stetsasonic,
Gabor Szabo,
Animal Collective,
Fela Kuti,
The Velvet Underground,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eddi Front,
Max Romeo,
Gang Green,
Altered Images,
Suburban Knight,
Man Parrish,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.