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 Namibia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 David Bowie 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 Skarface to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Bizarre Inc.,
F. McDonald,
Thee Headcoats,
Minutemen,
Motorama,
These Immortal Souls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Agitation Free,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marmalade,
Piero Umiliani,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
Buzzcocks,
Animal Collective,
Lakeside,
Fad Gadget,
Sandy B,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
The Pretty Things,
48th St. Collective,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Circle Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick May,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mr. Review,
Crime,
Accadde A,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eddi Front,
Surgeon,
Terry Callier,
Peter and Kerry,
Severed Heads,
Tomorrow,
The Gap Band,
Soft Cell,
The Human League,
Subhumans,
Rufus Thomas,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Organ,
Neil Young,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Das Ding,
John Foxx,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lightning Bolt,
Public Enemy,
Alison Limerick,
Gang Green,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bush Tetras,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.