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 Oman and from Shanghai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 X-102 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Idris Muhammad,
The American Breed,
Arcadia,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cameo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kenny Larkin,
Public Enemy,
Oblivians,
Colin Newman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Matthew Halsall,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Visage,
Ice-T,
Fatback Band,
Urselle,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
David Axelrod,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mantronix,
June of 44,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fluxion,
Stetsasonic,
Aural Exciters,
Fugazi,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stereo Dub,
Minor Threat,
The Neon Judgement,
Donny Hathaway,
London Community Gospel Choir,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Schoolly D,
Jacob Miller,
The Fortunes,
Wings,
The Searchers,
Brick,
The Electric Prunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Knickerbockers,
Loose Ends,
Gang of Four,
Whodini,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Delta 5,
Chris & Cosey,
Roger Hodgson,
Yaz,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.