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 Georgia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Wally Richardson to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Trumans Water,
PIL,
Quadrant,
Monolake,
Shoche,
Suicide,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Erykah Badu,
This Heat,
Anthony Braxton,
Ken Boothe,
Anakelly,
Kas Product,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bauhaus,
Chris & Cosey,
Magma,
Motorama,
Pere Ubu,
Slick Rick,
Deadbeat,
Todd Rundgren,
Yazoo,
Steve Hackett,
The Mojo Men,
Marvin Gaye,
Skarface,
Eric Copeland,
Donny Hathaway,
Niagra,
Matthew Halsall,
The Move,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bronski Beat,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gong,
Essential Logic,
Von Mondo,
The Vogues,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Franke,
Alison Limerick,
Angry Samoans,
Sight & Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Laurel Aitken,
Altered Images,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Robert Wyatt,
Bluetip,
Metal Thangz,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bootsy Collins,
The Walker Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Das Ding,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.