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 Djibouti and from Toronto.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Half Japanese to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Eli Mardock,
Bootsy Collins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The United States of America,
Fluxion,
Althea and Donna,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
T. Rex,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Desert Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Holt,
Lungfish,
Lightning Bolt,
Visage,
Nico,
Howard Jones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jawbox,
Steve Hackett,
Barry Ungar,
Goldenarms,
Matthew Bourne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
F. McDonald,
AZ,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Sherman,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
Faust,
New York Dolls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Young Marble Giants,
Drexciya,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Derrick May,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
Minny Pops,
Eurythmics,
Todd Rundgren,
The Trojans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül,
Scan 7,
New Order,
E-Dancer,
Bill Wells,
Hot Snakes,
Terry Callier,
Dawn Penn,
cv313,
Soft Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.